


lightning in a bottle doesn't happen twice

by bellamysgriffinprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamysgriffinprincess/pseuds/bellamysgriffinprincess
Summary: Bellamy sighs, brow furrowing. “It’s so stupid, Clarke. Promise me… Promise me that when I get my soul mark, you won’t let me look for them. I don’t want to find them.”There’s a pang in her chest at his words, so harsh and direct. “Is that what you really want? To never even try?”He looks over at her, meeting her eyes, and in that moment, she knows he’s being completely honest. The heartbreak in his gaze is tangible, clear despite the alcohol he’s probably consumed, and her own heart aches for him. “I don’t even want to meet them, Clarke.”She shouldn’t agree to it-- the word feels like lead in her mouth-- but still, she nods. “Okay.”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 95
Kudos: 434





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this FOREVER ago, and then life got in the way, but every time I thought of an idea for it, I made a note in my phone and promised myself that one day I’d post it. I’m not done writing it, but I really wanted to get a chapter out before the premiere, so.. here ya go? the title and lyrics are from "the great ones" by maren morris <3

_you just fell out of the sky  
the best things come when you don’t even try_

* * *

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Clarke turns at the sound of a voice, pausing in the middle of slinging her bookbag onto her shoulder. Octavia Blake is standing there, clutching a notebook to her chest with her bottom lip between her teeth. She’s new, Clarke remembers, having just moved from a few cities over. Clarke hasn’t talked to her much, but she certainly seems nice enough.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Well, with me being new in the middle of a semester, I feel like I’m having a little trouble catching up.” Octavia taps her finger absentmindedly on the notebook in her hands. “You seem like you understand everything really well, and I was honestly wondering if you could help me.”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, I’m sure moving is tricky enough. Add 10th grade Physics and it really seems unfair.”

Octavia’s eyes widen hopefully. “So you’ll help?”

“Of course. Do you have some time after school today?”

“Actually, yeah. My brother tutors until five o’clock, and he’s my ride, so that works really well.”

“Great.” Clarke smiles at her. “Where does he tutor? We could just go there.”

“In one of the library’s study rooms, so anywhere in that area is probably cool.”

“So, I’ll just meet you at the library right after last bell?”

Octavia grins then, reaching out and briefly squeezing Clarke’s shoulder. “Yes, thank you so much. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

When Clarke heads to the library after school, she finds Octavia talking to a boy who shares her complexion and dark hair, but stands about half a foot above her. The two seem to be in a deep conversation—Octavia has her arms crossed over her chest and the boy’s brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face.

As Clarke approaches, she catches some of their words. 

“She’s probably not the kind of person you want to be friends with, O.” He definitely sounds angry, and she doesn’t hear what Octavia replies, only his own response. “How do you know?”

“Because I—”

They look up then, as she’s finally close enough for them to notice her, and while Octavia smiles, the boy finds an expression of wariness.

“Hey, Clarke. This is Bellamy, my brother.” Bellamy just nods curtly at her as he crosses his arms, and a rush of irritation floods her. Why does he seem to hate her so much?

Feeling just a little petty, she extends a hand toward him. “I’m Clarke, the person who volunteered to help your sister out with Physics. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bellamy huffs, crossing his arms even further to ignore her outstretched palm while Octavia glares at him. “I’m sure she’d figure it out just fine on her own, _princess_ , she’s pretty smart.”

“Princess?” The nickname isn’t an unfamiliar one, and then it clicks. “Is this about… my mom?” 

“Bellamy,” Octavia reprimands, slapping at his arm. “Be nice.”

Now, heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks. The Blakes have been here for barely a month and they already have her pegged as some spoiled rich kid, because her mom has sold a book about soulmates and is running for mayor.

“Look, my mom has been pretty successful lately, but… it’s not something I really care about at the end of the day.” Bellamy’s expression seems to soften at the crack in her voice, even as she resents it for breaking. “If you know _so_ much about me, you probably know that my dad had to die for all of that to happen, and I’d much rather have him back, but that’s impossible. This is the life I have and I’m trying to make the best of it. I’m sorry if that offends you.”

Something flickers in Bellamy’s eyes that she can’t place, but the tension in his shoulders seems to dissipate as he glances at his sister, who still has her own arms crossed, looking at him expectantly. He glances over his shoulder, sighing.

“I have to go tutor, I’ll… see you later, O.” He hesitates, but then looks at her. His sigh is heavy, like she’s a burden he has to deal with. He seems as if he’ll speak to her, but instead, he shakes his head.

Clarke rolls her eyes, but he’s already gone, walking across the room to a door where some kids are filing in. He doesn’t look back as she and Octavia sit down at a table in the corner.

“Sorry about that,” Octavia says, pulling out her textbook. “He’s not just weird about you because you’re… well, because your family is rich. He also… kind of hates everything to do with soulmates, and your mom wrote that book after what happened to your dad, and…”

“Why does he hate soulmates?”

Octavia presses her lips together for a moment. “It’s not something we really like to talk about.”

“Oh, sorry.” Clarke glances down at her hands on the table. “Do you feel the same way that he does?”

There’s a pause, and Octavia taps her pencil against her notebook. “No, I don’t.”

The statement rings with finality, so Clarke drops the subject even though the idea of someone not believing in or liking soulmates seems so foreign to her. Her parents were soulmates, the strongest couple she had probably ever seen. Clarke grew up in a home where her parents were together and loved each other, all the way up until a year ago, when her father died in a car accident.

Her mom was distraught for a few weeks, and when she finally picked herself up, she wrote a book about soulmates in a frenzy—loving them, needing them, dealing with losing them, how it affected her “princess”, everything. It was wildly popular, selling hundreds of thousands of copies and giving her enough household name credit that she decided she’d run for mayor of their town, though her dreams are, ultimately, much bigger.

Regardless of how Clarke feels about everything her mother has done, it still doesn’t make sense that Bellamy could feel so negatively about soulmates.

They’re _soulmates_ , after all. Isn’t that kind of the point? That they can’t be argued or doubted?

Shaking her thoughts aside, she pulls out the practice problems for their upcoming Physics exam and spends nearly two hours working through them with Octavia, doing her best to explain the concepts and the math that’s necessary to know. By the time the door across the library opens and a handful of kids come out followed by Bellamy, Octavia is grinning ear to ear.

“This makes so much more sense. Thank you, Clarke.”

They pack up their things as Bellamy approaches, hands tucked into his pockets. He seems to be avoiding looking at Clarke. “Uh, how’d it go?”

‘Really good,” Octavia tells him, tucking her pencil into the side pocket of her bookbag. “I think I have what I need to study for the test now.”

“Good.” Bellamy rocks on his heels as his gaze finally flicks to Clarke. He’s biting on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before he speaks again. “Thank you, for helping.” 

While the attempt itself is feeble at best, Clarke can sense his genuineness. He might not believe in soulmates, for whatever reason, but the guilt he feels for being a jerk is obvious. So, she smiles, giving him a small nod.

“It’s no trouble.” And then, to Octavia. “Here, I’ll give you my number. That way if you come up with any more questions, you can text me.”

They spend a moment exchanging phone numbers, and then Clarke puts her bookbag on. “Just let me know if you need any more help. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Clarke.” Octavia picks up her own bag, tossing it onto her back and heading toward the door.

Bellamy goes to follow her, hesitating. “It was, uh, nice to meet you.”

She wants to roll her eyes, but refrains. “Look, I’m not that mad at you for what you said, I guess I can see where you’re coming from. Let’s just forget it, okay? Your sister is nice, I’m sure you’re at least decent.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorts, brow furrowing.

“Neither do you, about me.” She cuts him off before he can speak. “And no, the Sparksnotes you read on a single chapter about me in my mom’s book does not count.”

At that, he tilts his head at her. A moment passes, and then his lips twitch, just a bit. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

She waves at him and then walks behind him out of the building, though his stride is much longer than her own. By the time she’s walking out the door, he’s climbing into a small pickup truck with Octavia in the backseat. They both give her a little wave as they pull out of the parking lot, and, strangely, she finds herself looking forward to the next time she sees them.

\------

“Ugh, I hate this movie.”

Clarke plops herself down on the couch next to Wells, popcorn bowl in hand. Wells chuckles, but picks up the remote to scroll through the guide and find something other than the romcom that was on. He finally selects a random cartoon, rolling his eyes lightly at her.

They watch it in silence for a moment, reaching periodically into the popcorn bowl for a handful. Clarke nestles herself further into the couch, glancing at her best friend. “You know I met someone who doesn’t believe in soulmates?”

Wells scoffs. “What do you mean, doesn’t believe in them? There’s nothing to believe. They’re established fact.”

“He doesn’t,” she says. “Or at least, he doesn’t think they’re always right. Or just hates everything to do with them. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“Does he have a mark?”

“Not yet. He’s a senior, the new girl’s older brother, but he turns nineteen this spring.”

“Huh.” Wells grabs some popcorn, frowning. “That is weird, though.”

“I hope I get my mark on my arm, where everyone can see it,” Clarke muses aloud.

“You always have been a little show-off.”

Clarke flicks a piece of popcorn at him. “Have not.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Wells replies, picking up the popcorn that landed on his lap.

“I need new friends.”

“Door’s right there.”

She gives up, shoving weakly at his shoulder before looking back at the television. A moment passes where the only noise is coming from the TV, and Clarke munches absentmindedly on some popcorn.

“I just don’t get how someone could see something that’s so good, and not have any faith in it.” Her voice is quiet.

Wells sighs. “Maybe he has a good reason, even if doesn’t make sense to us.”

“Yeah,” Clarke murmurs. “Maybe.”

\------

Clarke and Octavia meeting to study becomes a weekly thing. They have all the same classes with the exception of their elective—Clarke is in Art 3 while Octavia is taking a woodworking course. It’s easy for them to meet in the library on days that Bellamy has to tutor, as it gives Octavia something to do while she waits, at least. She finds that she likes hanging out with Octavia, enjoys the way her eyes light up when she puts concepts together, the way she talks as much as she wants to even when the few other people around shoot her glares, the way Clarke can feel the confidence rippling off of her and swears some of it wears off on her, too. The shy, quiet girl she thought had moved to her school is the opposite of what she expected, really. It’s easy to become friends with her, with her carefree energy but big heart, her quick wit and perceptive gaze.

Clarke thinks she’s a little crazy sometimes, but she likes her all the same.

Bellamy is a little harder to understand. He doesn’t actively sneer at her after that first week, but his greetings are usually just a nod. Plus, he dismisses himself quickly after she arrives, sometimes sitting in the room he tutors in for another ten minutes before students arrive to avoid talking to her.

At least, she assumes that’s what he’s doing.

It irks her more than she would ever admit that he seems to have such a problem with her, but she tries not to take it personally. It isn’t personal, after all. Even though she knows that, it aches in a way that she doesn’t understand.

It’s why she’s glad that, after three weeks, Bellamy greets her with a little wave instead of a nod. It isn’t much, but that day he also gets her to hang back when they go to leave, rubbing at the back of his neck as they walk toward the front door of the school.

“So, Octavia won’t mention this, but she really likes you hanging out with her and helping her out. I appreciate that, really. But…” He trails off, not meeting her eyes.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to give me some ‘dating my sister intentions’ talk?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, I—” He huffs, but his gaze finds hers and she knows the look he gives her is supposed to be one of exasperation, but she can’t help thinking how cute the expression is. “I just want to make sure she doesn’t wind up hurt. I know she seems really confident and everything, but… it doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt easily.”

The seriousness in his voice sobers her. “Bellamy, Octavia is great. I like being friends with her. I’m not going to just ditch her out of nowhere. Promise.”

He nods, solemn. “Yeah, okay.”

She feels a bout of uneasiness as she studies his face. He’s staring intently at his shoes, hands tucked deep into his pockets until they get to the door. He holds it open for her, not meeting her eyes.

It finally bothers her enough, and she bumps her elbow into his, trying to get him to do something other than frown. “Hey, you’re a good big brother. Octavia is lucky to have you looking out for her.”

Thankfully, it has the desired effect. He smiles, glancing up from his feet to meet her eyes. “Thank you. Give it a few weeks, princess. I might say the same to you.”

“I hope you do. But without the ‘princess’, please.”

Now, he smirks. “No promises.”

“Then, no thanks, actually.”

She can’t stop her smile, and so her attempt to tease him doesn’t go very far. Still, he chuckles just a little, so she still considers it a win.

After that, things get better. He smiles when she shows up at the library, hangs out a little longer while they talk about classes or how Bellamy’s tutoring is going. One day, when her and Octavia are both pretty caught up on work, they just talk for the two hours, and she learns that Octavia and Bellamy’s parents are both dead. They live at their aunt’s place, though she travels a lot, so she’s rarely in it.

So, for the most part, it’s just the two of them. They get so much money from their aunt a month, but everything else is covered by the money that Bellamy makes tutoring. 

It makes Bellamy’s protectiveness over his sister make a lot more sense.

They’re not really the type to let people in.

It’s why she’s overjoyed when he gets comfortable teasing her, that comfort only increasing as time goes on. She understands that he’s genuinely trying to make sure that she isn’t going to leave his sister hanging before he actually lets her in, that he’s trying to protect his baby sibling from getting hurt, that they’re all each other has and other people are a possible threat to that, so he’s wary.

It’s sweet, really.

But they never talk about soulmates, and the longer it goes without the word being so much as uttered, the stronger her curiosity grows.

About two months into her study dates with Octavia, she’s writing out chemistry notecards while sitting across from her. She’s so focused on her task, trying to make sure she has all of her definitions memorized, she doesn’t hear him walk up and then, suddenly, he’s leaning over her shoulder.

“Wow, you really are a nerd.”

Clarke sighs as loudly as she can muster. “Being smart doesn’t mean I’m a nerd. Besides, this nerd still helps your sister sometimes, thank you very much.”

When she glances up, Octavia is smirking, a knowing look in her eyes. “That’s okay, ask Bellamy what he likes to do in his free time.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, noticing that there’s a pink tinge on his neck. Raising a brow at him only makes the color grow darker. He hesitates, like he’s hoping she’ll drop it, but she only waits expectantly. “I watch… documentaries and stuff.”

“What kind?” she probes, feeling a giddiness rise in her chest at the way his mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Like, historical.”

“Historical? So, like World Wars? American History?”

“Uh, no.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Like, Ancient Rome and Greece.”

She chokes back her laugh at the almost squeakiness of his voice, but Bellamy rolls his eyes anyway, pushing off of the table and going to stand beside Octavia instead.

“No, I’m sorry!” she says, still trying to hold back her giggles. “Your passions are very valid, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off, but he doesn’t seem too offended.

Octavia, however, grins. “See, you guys can be nerds together. Just different kinds of nerds.”

They both scoff at that.

“You know, I like art, too.” Clarke props her chin up on her hand, notecards forgotten. “Does that make me a nerd?”

Bellamy pretends to consider her question. “I think it makes you a troubled nerd, actually.”

“Not all artists are troubled,” she argues back, trying to glare at him. His smile is contagious, though, and she falters after only a moment. Bellamy just smirks, and she has to look away from him at the sudden rush in her veins. “Well, I guess most of the good ones are, but whatever.”

Still, as they’re waking out to their cars a few minutes later, she can’t help calling out, “Bye, nerd!”

His grin is a little malicious. “Bye _, princess_.”

Her mouth drops open before she can stop her reaction, and she can hear Bellamy’s laugh across the parking lot. The sound bounces around in her head, and she realizes it’s the first time she’s ever heard him laugh like that.

It’s beautiful enough that she almost forgets that he’s still calling her princess.

Almost.

\------

**I’m dying.**

Clarke glances down at her phone, noting the time as she opens her messages. There’s still five minutes before the bell rings.

**What do you mean?**

**I’m stupid sick. Do you think  
you can bring the homework  
for today to me? I’ll text you  
my address. Pretty please!! I’ll  
give you my firstborn, pinky  
swear.**

Clarke rolls her eyes.

**You’re overdramatic. Of course  
I’ll bring you your homework  
without needing your first-born.  
Your second-born will do.**

**Lol, it’s a deal. Thankkkkk youuuuuuuuuuu.**

It’s easy enough to find the Blake house that afternoon. It’s nestled into a little cul-de-sac just a few miles from school. When she knocks, the door opens quickly.

“Hey.” Bellamy smiles at her, opening the door a little wider. “She’s asleep. You can come in.”

Clarke walks in, glancing around at the foyer. There isn’t too much on the walls, just an ornate oval mirror sitting above a table to the left of the door. Once she’s in the living room, however, she smiles at all of the cute posters and signs that are up, almost all of them spinning some inspirational quote. There are pictures here, too. Most of them are clearly of the Blake siblings. Bellamy closes the door behind her and she turns back to him, tugging her bookbag off to reach in and grab the extra papers she has. Tucked on top is the makeshift card that she made in art class, that just says “feel better” elegantly and has her name signed on it.

“I photocopied my notes and got the assignments from our classes, too.” She hands them to him. “I went by her elective class, too, but there wasn’t anything she needed from there.”

Bellamy glances briefly at the papers, putting them down on the coffee table and then turning back to her. “Thank you, for bringing everything by. That was sweet of you.”

“It’s no problem,” Clarke assures him, clinging to her bookbag strap. “I know you said she’s asleep, but can I go up and see her for a sec? I just want her to know I came by.”

“Yeah, of course. Her room is up the stairs, first door on the right.”

Clarke picks up the stack of paper before heading upstairs. Octavia is, in fact, asleep, but she stirs easily when Clarke touches her shoulder.

“Clarke?”

“I brought your homework.” Clarke smiles. “Just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m feeling better, just sleepy.” Her voice is low and a little slurred.

“I guess you have some good drugs, huh?”

The smile that tugs up Octavia’s lips has more snark than Clarke would have expected. “The best.”

“Feel better, okay?” Clarke pushes some of her hair back.

Octavia reaches up and pats Clarke’s hand. “Okay. Don’t let Bellamy give you a hard time.”

Clarke isn’t sure where that came from, but she shakes her head. “He doesn’t.”

Octavia huffs, clearly a little out of it. “Yeah, but… I mean, that’s all it is. He likes you, mostly because you’re a good friend to me, but still. He just gets weird about you and doesn’t trust people easily, but it’s nothing you did. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“It’s okay, I know he means well.”

“Good,” is what she thinks Octavia says, but she’s quickly falling back asleep. So, Clarke puts the card she made for her on Octavia’s nightstand with the other papers, making sure the card is nicely propped on top.

Bellamy is in the kitchen when she comes back downstairs. He turns when she steps onto the tile, alerting him to her presence.

“She didn’t wake up for long. Whatever she’s taking must be good stuff.”

“It is pretty good,” Bellamy chuckles before sobering a little. “Uh, do you wanna stay? It seems only fair that I feed you.”

“Depends.” She slides into a stool at the breakfast bar. “What are you cooking?”

“Spaghetti?”

“That’s more basic than I was expecting.”

He tilts his head at her. “Why?”

“Well, you guys practically raised yourselves, right? I figure you can cook pretty well.”

Bellamy’s brow furrows. “Octavia told you that?”

Clarke feels heat creep into her cheeks. “She told me that your parents died, that your aunt has legal custody, but that you guys basically take care of yourselves. She told me your aunt isn’t around. That’s all.”

She can sense that there is more to the story, and that whatever it is, Octavia hasn’t told it to her. That seems to relax Bellamy, just a little. Still, his eyes are dark in the moments before he turns back to the stove. After a moment, the tension leaves his shoulders.

“She must trust you.”

“She does.” Clarke lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She hesitates, but the words seem to form on her lips of their own accord. “I hope one day, you can, too.”

Bellamy glances at her, their eyes meeting. She smiles, hoping it conveys the sincerity of the statement. A beat passes, and then he smiles, too.

“Maybe,” he says, his eyes a complete contrast to just a few moments ago. “But for the record, I am actually a pretty good cook.”

Relieved that the mood has lightened, Clarke grins. “Well, then this better be the best damn spaghetti I’ve ever had in my life.”

“No pressure or anything,” Bellamy says, rolling his eyes.

Clarke watches him gather a few more things as his water starts boiling. He hums just a little to himself, like perhaps he’s forgotten she’s there. Once the water is boiling, he drops the spaghetti noodles in and then turns back to her.

“So, what do you want to do once you’re done with school?”

The question takes her by surprise. “Uh… I don’t know, I guess. I mean, my mom would definitely be disappointed if I try to get an art degree. She doesn’t see my hobby as a worthwhile investment, so I’ll probably wind up doing something practical.”

At the mention of her mother, Bellamy’s shoulders tense, but to his credit, it doesn’t show on his face. “That seems a little messed up, you should do what you want. It shouldn’t matter what she thinks.”

“You clearly haven’t met my mother,” she jokes, glad when Bellamy seems to take it in stride. He laughs a little, but turns back to the pot on the stove to check the spaghetti noodles and start what she assumes is a sauce. Clarke changes the subject quickly. “What about you? Are you going to college once you graduate?”

“I might take some online core classes to get started, but I think I’ll wait on Octavia to graduate to actually go to school. I want to make sure I’m around if she needs me.”

“What would you want to do?”

“I’ve always liked the idea of teaching?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “You don’t sound certain.”

“I guess…” Bellamy purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t think about myself that much. I’m always just looking out for O.”

“Well, I hope you get to think about yourself someday. I think you deserve to.” Clarke smiles at him, surprised when her statement seems to shock him. His mouth pops open just slightly, his brows coming a little closer together as he looks at her. She doesn’t look away, meeting his gaze until he ducks his head, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She stands, hiding the warmth in her cheeks by looking at the spices he’s laid out on the counter. “So, are you going to share this recipe with me?”

“Jokes on you, princess. I do it differently every time.”

“Isn’t that, like, breaking a cooking rule?”

Bellamy chuckles. “We don’t follow rules in my kitchen.”

“Whoa there, rebel.”

“You guys are obnoxious.”

At the sound of Octavia’s nasal voice, Clarke moves away from Bellamy automatically. It’s only after she’s moved, when she looks back at where she was, that she realizes how close they had actually gotten to each other. Even after taking a full step back, she’s still close enough to smell his cologne.

“Hey, O.” Bellamy’s voice is gentle. “Hungry?”

She shrugs a little, her blanket falling partially off of her shoulder as she shuffles up to them. Clarke expects her to go to Bellamy, but she puts her head on Clarke’s shoulder, instead. “Are you staying?”

“For a little while, yeah.”

“Good.”

When she looks up, Bellamy has a strange look on his face, but beneath whatever it is, his eyes are soft and his smile is warm. Butterflies turn in her stomach, but she shakes it off. She figures the affection in his gaze is largely for Octavia, happy that his little sister has a friend to snuggle up with when she doesn’t feel well.

That’s all.

That night, her mom is actually home when she comes in the door. She’s sitting on the couch watching TV when Clarke walks in. “Hey, mom.”

“Getting in a little late, sweetie.”

“I had dinner at a friend’s place.” She leans down to press a kiss to her mom’s cheek. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“That’s alright. New friends?”

Clarke can’t help smiling. “Yeah, but I think they’ll be around a while.”

“Good.”

That seems to be the end of the conversation, but something nags at Clarke’s brain until she has to ask, “Mom, have you ever met someone who doesn’t believe in soulmates, or how they work?”

Abby’s brow furrows. “Have you met someone who feels that way?”

“I think so.” Clarke sits down next to her mother. “I was just wondering if you’d seen it before.”

“A few times, but… I always just remember how unhappy those people were. I can’t imagine the bitterness they would have to have in their hearts to question something like that.”

“You think they’re bitter?”

“I’d have to think so.” Abby purses her lips. “To not have faith in something beyond our power just seems like a sad way to live. You should suggest my book to them, see if it helps.”

Clarke doesn’t let the sigh sitting on her tongue to escape. Instead, she nods and smiles despite the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Yeah, I’ll get them to check it out,” she lies. “Goodnight, mom.”

Her sleep that night is uneasy, and when she wakes, all she can remember is swirling lines that looked like curls.

Like Bellamy’s curls.

\------

“So, my birthday is next week, and I’m having a little party at my house.”

“That sounds fun,” Clarke says, marking a spot in her textbook and looking up at Octavia.

“I’m just inviting a few people from our grade and a few that are my brother’s age, but they’re always around, so they’re kind of my friends, too.”

“Is this you inviting me?”

“Well, duh.”

Clarke laughs. “I wouldn’t miss it, girl.”

The party is relatively small, like Octavia promised. She’s invited Monty, Jasper, Harper, and Maya from their grade, and there are a few older kids—Raven, Murphy, Emori, Echo, and Miller.

There’s a few pizzas, snacks, and cupcakes, one of which they stick a candle into to sing “Happy Birthday” to Octavia after everyone shows up. Bellamy puts frosting on Octavia’s nose despite her protests, and at one point she remembers seeing Bellamy grabbing three sodas from the fridge that he distributes to a few of the older kids. After that, people sort of just hang out. Octavia makes her rounds, getting pictures with everyone, but overall, it really does wind up being one of the most chill parties Clarke has ever been to.

“Have you seen Bellamy?” Octavia asks her around nine o’clock, trying to pull some confetti out of her hair. Clarke isn’t even sure where it came from.

“No, sorry!” Clarke replies over the music. She can’t even remember the last time she saw Bellamy, now that she thinks about it. She thinks it was when Harper was talking about her older cousin getting her soul mark. The conversation had made her want to seek him out, almost as a reflex, and he’d been in a corner staring really hard at the piece of pizza in his hands.

She hasn’t seen him since then.

It adds up. She should have known.

Curious, she winds up walking up the stairs, glancing in a few doors before finding one already cracked. She pushes the door open enough to see inside, and can tell immediately that this is Bellamy’s room. The furniture is all simple wood, the comforter just solid black. There’s very little decoration, other than a few pictures of himself and Octavia, and one of a woman that looks a lot like Octavia.

Their mother.

Bellamy isn’t there, and she almost walks back out into the hall until she realizes that the window is open, the curtains fluttering from the breeze. She steps further inside, approaching the window cautiously. Gripping the ledge, she leans her head out and there he is, sitting on the roof to the left of the window.

“You know, people are looking for you.”

He turns his head in her direction, smiling wistfully. “And you found me, congratulations. You win.”

She giggles, ducking through the window and sitting immediately, scooting the few feet over to where he is.

“Did I say you could come out here?”

“I didn’t think I needed your permission. It’s just a roof.”

“Yeah, but you came through my room, and I was here first. Ergo, you should ask.”

“Don’t be a jerk.” She rolls her eyes, but then pauses. “Do you want me to go?”

He’s quiet for just a moment, and she almost regrets asking the question. This is stupid, of course he wouldn’t want her out here with him. He barely tolerates her for Octavia’s sake.

She presses her heels into the roof, ready to stand. “I’m s—”

“No, you can stay, princess.”

“Oh,” falls from her lips in surprise—it’s the softest she’s ever heard him say his nickname for her. She takes a deep breath, tucking her knees up into her chest and staring out at the street with him. It’s a quiet night—the only cars around are the few in the yard.

They sit like that for a few minutes, quiet. The air is heavy, and the more it weighs down on them, the more she knows this is about soulmates. It’s a striking, clear recognition that surprises her. But even without that gut feeling, it made sense.

Harper had been gushing about her cousin’s mark, how excited she’ll be when she gets hers. Raven had piped up that she thought she had already met her soulmate, but they had to wait for marks to be certain.

And then Bellamy had grabbed a beer from a six-pack that he somehow acquired despite only being eighteen, came out to the roof, and been sitting here alone for at least an hour, she figures.

Clarke wants to know what happened to him so desperately, but it isn’t nearly as much out of curiosity as it was when she first met him.

Now, she wants to know who hurt him so badly. Who made this boy who walks with his chin high and shoulders back so shaken when it comes to talking about something that’s supposed to be pure and good?

She’s speaking before she can think better of herself. “Look, I don’t expect you to talk to me about whatever made you hate… soulmates so much. I know I’m not exactly your favorite person, and that I’m probably a really ugly reminder of it. But I am sorry, for whatever happened that hurt you so much. And if you do want to talk, I’m here.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she can feel the tension in his body from where she sits beside him. Still, she waits for him to work through what she’s said, while she hopes that he doesn’t push her off of the roof for it.

Eventually, he shifts, and for a second, she thinks he’s getting up to leave. But then he’s pressed even closer to her, and she leans into his warmth easily. He looks over at her, and even in the dim light, she can see the shine in his eyes.

“You’re not so bad, you know.”

It isn’t what she was expecting him to say. She smiles, bumping her elbow against his gently. “Same to you.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up and then he’s facing forward again. When she takes a chance and leans her head against his shoulder, he rests his own on her hair. It’s nice, and even if he doesn’t say another word, she knows she’s happy that she found him.

“My dad killed my mom, and then he killed himself. When I was almost six.”

“Oh, my God.” Clarke picks up her head to look at him. It takes her a second to put the pieces together, but then she gets it, the realization like a knife to her chest. “They were soulmates.”

He nods, closing his eyes. A tear shines on his cheek. She reaches out, wrapping her hand around the one sitting on his knee and squeezing. “They fought all the time, but they stayed together because they felt like they had to. It eventually drove him crazy, but… even then, he felt so terrible for what he’d done to her, he killed himself after. He left a note. Octavia was in her bed upstairs when I got off the bus that afternoon, I found them. I had to go to the neighbors next door with Octavia, tell them what happened.”

Clarke squeezes his hand, understanding immediately. “Octavia doesn’t remember anything, but you do.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “We were in and out of foster homes, and then when my aunt turned seventeen they let us stay with her, for some reason. Still, not too long after she got her soul mark at twenty, she started travelling to try to find the match. But by that time, I was almost sixteen, and we didn’t want to go back into foster care. She stayed close enough for a while, but eventually we decided we wanted to just be on our own and choose where we wanted to go to school. We agreed that we would make all of our decisions and that she’d just send us money and come back often enough to do paperwork. So, her name is on everything, but we take care of ourselves.”

Bellamy’s voice has started shaking, and Clarke pulls her hand out of his only to wrap it around his waist. He lifts his own arm and she hugs him the best she can, resting her head above his heart.

She wishes she could do more, but he presses his face into her hair and she feels the dampness of his tears on her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

“Anyway, now every time someone mentions it, I just… I see them lying there on the kitchen floor and I—”

“Sh, it’s okay.” Clarke holds a little tighter, presses a little closer. “I get it. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.”

He collects himself after a moment, sitting back up a little straighter and moving the hand on her shoulder to the roof behind her back, propping himself up. “I’m sorry that I took that out on you when I met you.”

“I get it. My mom preaches about them all the time, she’s made a living off of it, practically. Even people who like the idea of soulmates probably get annoyed with her, and me, by association.” Clarke shrugs. “It’s understandable that you didn’t like me.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s excusable.” He takes a deep, slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re really great, Clarke. Octavia really likes having you around, and… I do, too.”

When his eyes open and meet hers, her heart stammers in her chest at how soft they are. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He nods, the smallest of smiles tugging up the corners of his lips. “Good.”

At that, he leans back on the roof to stare up at the stars. She follows his lead, settling in beside him. “Thank you, for trusting me with your story,” she whispers after a moment.

“Thank you for listening.”

He points out a few constellations that he can see, and then they lie there in comfortable silence until they hear Octavia’s voice calling their names. They slip back in through Bellamy’s window and rejoin the party, but Clarke can feel that something has shifted.

She’ll meet his eyes across the room without meaning to, automatically smiling when she does. He smiles back, too, and when she goes to leave that night, he gives her a hug after Octavia does, tucking her close and holding tight for a moment that feels like forever, but still ends too soon. She can feel the thanks in his embrace, the genuine gratefulness in the way his fingers graze her back.

She thinks she can still feel the weight of his arms in her sleep.

After that night, falling for him happens quickly.

As much as she loves Octavia, she finds herself gravitating toward Bellamy more. On nights that she comes over to their house, she helps him cook dinner and clean, reveling in the way he bumps her out of the way with his hip, the way he smiles at her when she gives up and sits on the counter watching him cook, the way he splashes dish water at her when she takes too long to dry a dish.

He listens to her talk about school and her art projects, and he tells her happy stories from his childhood while they sit on the couch and watch movies until way too late at night. Octavia joins them, most of the time, but she always goes to bed before they do. Bellamy lets her put her feet in his lap, and she laughs when he complains about stupid people in horror movies or how cheesy romantic comedies are. It makes sense that he doesn’t like them, most of them have some reference to soulmates, after all. She makes it up to him every once in a while, letting them watch something that’s more historical fiction. He still complains—usually about the historical accuracy—but it’s usually just a little less complaining than normal. She figures it’s because they’re more war based and that there’s less mention of soulmates.

Regardless, those movies make him happy, and she finds that being with a happy Bellamy is her favorite place to be.

He’s so easy to love, she finds. He’s gentle and kind, and even as he continues to call her “princess”, the nickname only continues to grow softer until hearing it makes goosebumps rise on her flesh instead of anger rise in her chest. They don’t talk about soulmates again, but she finds that she doesn’t care. She knows why he doesn’t like to talk about it now and respects his wish.

She even starts to think that maybe it won’t matter that he doesn’t care about soulmates, even when she does.

Maybe she can just love him, anyway.

And then he gets a girlfriend.

Gina is a freshman in college that Bellamy met at an open house for Arcadia Southern University—Clarke had actually recommended that he go. The first time Clarke sees her, she’s supposed to be meeting Bellamy and Octavia for a movie. Without any warning, she walks up and sees Gina attached to Bellamy’s side.

It makes her stop short, and, perhaps thankfully, she drops her keys and takes a moment to pick them up. Bellamy introduces her, and Clarke is able to smile when she shakes this girl’s hand. Still, she’s grateful once they’re in the darkness of the movie. She knows that Gina is there, on the other side of Bellamy, and she practically misses the entire movie. Her chest aches and she feels stupid, like her ever believing Bellamy Blake could like her back was childish and improbable.

It wouldn’t work, anyway. Eventually, they would each have soul marks, and while he probably wouldn’t care about his, she would. She’d still want to find hers, she thinks, no matter how much she thinks she loves him now.

It doesn’t stop it from hurting.

She doesn’t let Gina stop her from hanging out with the Blakes, though. Being around Bellamy with a girlfriend is better than not being around him. Plus, Gina really isn’t the worst girlfriend for him to have. She’s nice and never seems bothered by Clarke being around.

One afternoon, they’re all lazing around the Blake living room—Gina is on one side of the couch, Clarke on the other, and Octavia is curled into the recliner while they watch TV. Bellamy comes in with popcorn, and lounges himself out in between Gina and Clarke. He puts his head on Gina’s lap and his feet in Clarke’s.

“I don’t want your smelly feet in my lap,” she complains, poking his big toe.

Grinning, he picks it up and tries to get it closer to her face. “You mean this smelly foot? Or this one?”

He switches feet while she tries to angle her head away, laughing despite herself. She shoves them back down into her lap, glaring at him the best she can. “Fine, you can keep them _here_.”

“Thanks, princess.” He gets comfortable and she lays her hands across his ankles, tucking her own feet underneath her and absentmindedly tapping her fingers on his heel.

The smile he shoots her is sweet, and she settles into the couch herself. Maybe, if this is her new normal, it isn’t the worst thing. She can settle for this, for the dull ache in her chest that she can almost ignore.

Later that night, she’s in the kitchen getting water when he walks in, making a glass for himself. He bumps his hip against hers as he takes a sip, but she can feel his nervous energy. She waits for him to spit out whatever he wants to say, but there’s unease in her stomach before he even speaks.

“So what do you think of Gina?”

Her breath catches and she almost chokes on her water. She coughs once, thankfully clearing her airway with just one burst of air. “She’s nice.”

“You like her?”

She can tell he genuinely wants her approval, and it aches deep in her chest. So, feeling like she’s rehearsing play lines that she’s only read once, she says, “I do, she seems like she’ll be really good for you.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy sips on his water a little more before putting his glass in the sink. “Get some sleep, okay, princess?”

He ruffles her hair a little when he walks by, and she begs her traitorous heart not to leap.

It does, anyway.

Still, she gets used to Gina, all the way up until the day that Octavia is sitting across from her gnawing on her pencil instead of studying for her math test.

“What’s bothering you?” she asks, rescuing the pencil from Octavia’s teeth.

“You know, Gina turns twenty next week,” Octavia tells her, eyes wide.

“Oh. I didn’t realize she was that old.” Clarke swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. “Has Bellamy said anything about it?”

“Not yet.” Octavia chews on her bottom lip for a second, apparently needing something to bite. “I’m worried, though.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Clarke tells her, but they both know she doesn’t believe it.

So, she marks the day on her mental calendar.

And she waits.

She wonders what will happen if Gina sees her mark and doesn’t recognize it. They’ve been together for nearly four months now—does Bellamy love her? Does he love her enough to wait for his own mark to see if it will match hers? Will this girl change his mind about soulmates? She plays a million scenarios over and over in her head, but of course, none of them is what actually happens.

Instead, late on the night of Gina’s twentieth birthday, Octavia calls her.

“I can’t find Bellamy,” she says as soon as Clarke has answered the phone. “He won’t answer his phone.”

Clarke immediately recognizes the panic in her friend’s voice, and she wonders how often Octavia has felt this worried for her brother, rather than the other way around. She shakes that off, taking a deep breath.

“Hey, hey, okay. I’ll…” She doesn’t know what she’ll do, but for now, she lies. “I’ll try calling him, I’ll find him, okay? Don’t worry.”

She hangs up, staring at her phone for the longest time. Something bad must have happened with Gina. Her heart starts racing, beating much too hard in her chest. Tears prick at her vision as she scrolls to his number and prays. She prays that he’ll answer and that he’s okay.

It feels almost useless, but she hits dial and waits while it rings. She counts each ring, the dread building and building in her stomach until—

“Clarke?”

“ _Bellamy_.” His name rushes from her lips in relief. “Hey, are you okay?”

He’s quiet, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear him. “Not really.”

She can hear the pain in his voice so clearly, feel the ache of it deep in her own chest. Holding her phone tightly to her ear, she picks up her keys and heads to her door. “Where are you?”

“Bar.”

“Which one, Bellamy?” she asks softly, climbing into her car and cranking it. She waits while he sighs, hears the shuffle of something on the other end of the line.

“Grounders. It’s the only one that will let me in.”

She’s already putting her car in reverse. “Can I come join you?”

Another pause. “Do you want to?”

 _Oh, Bellamy_. “Yes.”

There’s another shuffle on his end of the line. She waits, listening while he breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she repeats. “I’ll be there soon.”

It only takes her five minutes before she’s walking up to the door. The bouncer gives her a weird look, not letting her go in. “My friend is in there. I’m just going to talk to him and make sure he’s okay. Please.”

She doesn’t mention that they’ve already let in someone underage, thinking that might not go well. The bouncer must sense her desperation, though, because he lets her in.

Bellamy is at a table in the corner, and when he sees her, he stands. She’s proud to see that his stumble is only a small one, but she still feels like she’s holding a lot of his weight when she wraps her arms around him.

He hugs her back, burying his face into the hair at her neck. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go, so she keeps her arms firm around him until he pulls away. His hands stay on her shoulders, even when she reaches up to wipe some of the hair out of his eyes. He leans into her touch, closing his eyes, and her heart stutters.

It's the first time she’s ever seen Bellamy Blake this broken, and she has a sudden image of a little boy coming home to find his parents’ bodies, shaking them and begging them to wake up. She pushes it away, willing herself to pull it together for him.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” she requests, waiting while he slides into the booth and then sitting down next to him. Bellamy leaves space on the other side of him in order to stay close to her, picking up the beer in front of him and taking a sip. She plucks it from his hand and puts it back down on the table. “You’re not old enough for this, you know.”

He huffs. “It’s not like you’re going to tell on me.”

“I’m not,” she promises. “I’m just trying to take care of you, like you always take care of everyone else.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t pick the beer back up. He does squeeze his eyes shut, though, his hands balling into fists on the table. “I guess you know why I’m here.”

“I have an idea,” she acknowledges, pressing close to him in the booth. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He sighs. “She made leaving look so easy, like I never even mattered to her.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Clarke tells him, reaching out with her hands to open his fists, flattening his palms on the table and keeping hers on top of his. She can still the tension in his joints, but at least this way, his nails aren’t biting into his palm.

“It felt like it.” Bellamy closes his eyes. “She recognized that stupid fucking mark and just… left. We’re done, just like that.”

She swallows, treading carefully. “You have to remember that not everyone feels the same you do about soulmates. It’s okay that you don’t like them or believe in them, but other people do, and that’s okay, too.”

His hand twitches under hers, and she wraps her fingers tightly around his knuckles. “I know.”

“I’m still so sorry that she hurt you.”

Bellamy sighs, brow furrowing. “It’s so stupid, Clarke. Promise me… Promise me that when I get my soul mark, you won’t let me look for them. I don’t want to find them.”

There’s a pang in her chest at his words, so harsh and direct. “Is that what you really want? To never even try?”

He looks over at her, meeting her eyes, and in that moment, she knows he’s being completely honest. The heartbreak in his gaze is tangible, clear despite the alcohol he’s probably consumed, and her own heart aches for him. “I don’t even want to meet them, Clarke.”

She shouldn’t agree to it-- the word feels like lead in her mouth-- but still, she nods. “Okay.” 

He nods, seeming satisfied as he turns one of his hands over and wraps it around her own. “I just don’t want anyone or anything telling me who I should love. _I_ want to decide.”

Clarke leans in to rest her head on his shoulder, unable to meet his troubled eyes anymore. Even though she gets why he feels the way he does, it still shocks her how strong his negative emotions toward soulmates are. Hasn’t he seen successful pairings? Don’t they mean anything? How many good soulmate matches would it take for him to believe that soulmates are good and right?

And why does it feel like she wants him to believe _for her_?


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a spotify playlist that I listen to while I'm writing this if ya wanna check it out --> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2M4hTnnHN7IKaU8p3RTgZV?si=3O866o8uSgCnENSYdCWy4A

_Before you found me, baby, my heart  
and all around me was like a graveyard_

* * *

The more time that Clarke spends at the Blake house, the more she realizes that she isn’t the only one that does so. On any given night, one or two people wind up crashing on the couch or swinging by randomly. Between Octavia’s friends and Bellamy’s, it feels like someone is always around.

It makes the nights where she’s their only guest feel that much more special.

One Friday night, on one of those rare occasions, her and Bellamy are watching one of the worst drama movies she’s probably ever seen. She’s pretty sure it’s going to wind up being something supernatural as well, but that hasn’t been confirmed yet when Bellamy scoffs at something the male lead says.

“No one would ever say that in real life.” He glances over at her, brows furrowed. “Ever.”

Clarke agrees, honestly, but she has to tease him.

“It’s sweet,” she says, elbowing him in the side. He jerks away from her and fakes a wince, but his façade is up as soon as he rolls his eyes.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters, frowning.

Clarke giggles, leaning a little into Bellamy’s side. He’s as warm as he always is, and she takes a moment to appreciate the normalcy of their physical contact. No one ever seems to question it, especially Bellamy, and though she goes back and forth on the depths of her feelings for him, she has to admit that she loves being close to him.

She can’t help that, really.

Octavia walks in, collapsing on the couch beside Clarke. “Is Bellamy complaining about movies again?”

“Yes.” Clarke tries to bite back her grin when Bellamy glares at her. “As always.”

Octavia shakes her head. “Bell, when you refuse to watch movies that are heavy on soulmates, you really limit your options to the stupid movies. It’s your own fault.”

Clarke holds her breath as Bellamy looks at his sister over her head. She glances up at his expression, and it’s stoic, but not angry. When he notices Clarke’s gaze, his expression shifts and he just glares back at his sister. The corners of his lips quirk, and that tiny movement is what finally releases the breath from Clarke’s lungs.

She didn’t even know she was holding it until the air pushes past her lips.

“Whatever, O.”

Making a mental note that apparently Octavia can tease Bellamy about soulmates, Clarke focuses back in on the movie. It does wind up incorporating vampires, as she had expected. The moment passes, and eventually, Octavia curls up on the other side of the couch and dozes off with her feet in Clarke’s lap.

She and Bellamy sit in a comfortable silence, but when Bellamy shifts beside her, Clarke senses his unease almost immediately. She angles her body toward him just a little, never taking her eyes off of the screen in front of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs, hesitating. “I just… you know that I _want_ to believe in the… sanctity of soulmates or whatever, right? Like I wish I wasn’t like this, sometimes, I just… I can’t. I mean, Octavia teases me, but I guess I know she’s just teasing. I just don’t want you to think that I’m some heartless--“

“Bellamy.” She cuts him off, reaching over to put her hand on his knee. “It’s okay, I get it. I don’t think you’re a terrible person because you don’t believe in soulmates.”

“I know there are other people, like the ones you see in the news that do crazy things. They’ll try to break into government buildings because they think soulmates are some conspiracy somehow. I don’t believe that. I just… I know they’re a real thing. But…”

“You’re not like those people, Bellamy.” Clarke meets his eyes, hoping he believes her. “I understand who you are, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

She hadn’t always felt that way, of course. But the more she knows Bellamy, the more she gets him. He isn’t crazy, just scarred. It just so happens that his scars paint a bad picture for soulmates that he can’t get over.

Does she wish he could? Of course.

But no matter what, he’s Bellamy. That will be true whether he ever changes his mind about soulmates or not.

Silence lingers in the space between them until Bellamy sighs. Looking down at his lap, where her hand still rests on his knee, he picks at the tip of his fingernail while he speaks. “Anyone that knows how I am tells me that one day I’ll get over it. They always say that if I meet my soulmate, or whatever, that I’ll change my mind.”

Clarke feels the ache in her chest that she’s come to associate with Bellamy being in pain. It’s a different kind of hurt, one that she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before. It makes her want to crawl into his lap and hold him close, absorb everything that makes him sad into herself. “I think that’s for you to decide, not anyone else.”

His lips purse as he glances over at her, eyes sharp in the dim light of the TV. “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey.” She nudges at him gently. “Tell me more about how stupid this movie is.”

The smile that breaks out on his face alleviates the sting in her heart. He watches for a moment, until he finds something else to complain about, and it’s easy to just listen to him speak.

It’s not until he stirs her awake that she realizes she fell asleep on his shoulder. She picks up her head despite how heavy it feels, noting that there are credits flashing by on the television screen.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, stretching and standing. Octavia must have, at some point, vacated her own spot on the couch and gone to bed.

“You’re good, princess,” Bellamy says, following her lead and standing.

They tell each other goodnight, and a few moments later, she’s crawling into bed beside Octavia. Octavia shifts to give Clarke a little more room.

She’s almost asleep when her friend speaks, her voice quiet. “Bellamy doesn’t usually talk about the soulmate stuff like he did with you tonight.”

“Oh?” Clarke questions, even though she already kind of knows that.

Octavia sighs. “I’m glad he has you to talk to.”

It’s all that’s said, and soon enough, Octavia’s breathing evens out in sleep. Clarke stays awake a little longer, her heart swelling at the confirmation of this little fact.

She’s glad Bellamy has her, too.

(And that she has him.)

* * *

Bellamy graduates high school that May, and as he’d mentioned before, doesn’t jump into a degree program. Instead, he enrolls himself in a few online courses, just to get some of the core classes out of the way. Clarke is proud of him, but what it really means is that he spends a lot of his afternoons in a coffee shop down the street writing papers or working on algebra homework that he complains about every chance he gets.

She still makes sure to tell him how proud she is when he winds up having all A’s come that first December. He blushes darker than she’s ever seen him, ducking his head to try to hide the smile that breaks out on his face. His “thank you” winds up being mumbled into her neck when he hugs her.

But she misses him being around as often as he used to be. It’s a shock when she realizes she’s started spending more time with her classmates than with him.

“You know, we never hang out anymore,” Clarke points out to him accordingly the following February, a birthday hat that Octavia had forced onto her falling off of her head.

Bellamy flicks at the paper decoration, but he’s frowning. “I know, but it’s not forever. I’m just trying to get these few classes out of the way. It’ll make things easier if I ever do go to college.”

“Which you should. And I think you want to.”

He shrugs, but his lips twitch. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“Maybe I could help you out some. I’m sure it’d be nice to have some company while you’re slaving over equations and proper grammar.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, princess.”

“You’re not,” Clarke insists. “I’m offering, because I miss you so much. I would rather hang out with you while you do homework than never see you.”

Bellamy tilts his head at her, lips pursed. But she can see the smile behind his eyes. “You know, I think you’re going crazy in your old age.”

“Yeah, ‘cause seventeen is so old.” Clarke rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

She knows she’s won.

“This is my party, but I don’t know half of the people here,” she says, changing the subject. “I know the few people who are my friends, and a couple of yours, but there’s a lot of people here I don’t recognize.”

Bellamy glances around, as if he wants to prove her wrong, then kind of shrugs. “Well, the guy with the long brown hair over there is Finn.”

“Raven’s boyfriend, Finn?”

Bellamy grimaces. “Raven’s official _soulmate_ , Finn. As of two weeks ago.”

“Oh.”

She watches him as his eyes avoid hers for a moment, but then he looks back at her and shrugs. “It’s whatever.” 

Octavia comes up at that moment, demanding her attention. She gets wrapped up in dancing and talking with her own friends, up until the moment that a boy comes up while she’s getting a drink, grinning widely at her.

“Happy birthday,” he says, just as Clarke recognizes him.

“Oh, thanks.” She smiles, eyes catching sight of the dark oval with lines through it on his neck. Raven’s is on her shoulder, she thinks. “It’s Finn, right?”

“Yeah, you know who I am?”

“I think Bellamy pointed you out earlier,” she offers, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. A glance around reveals that they’re the only two people in the kitchen. Her stomach turns, uneasy.

“Well, I just wanted to wish you a personal happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” She goes to move around him, but he’s blocking the pathway. Suddenly, he’s close, _too close_. His hand comes up to her hair and he’s moving forward.

He’s trying to kiss her.

She jerks away from him and ducks just in time, avoiding his mouth. “What the hell, Finn? You’re Raven’s soulmate!”

“It’s fine, she won’t care,” he tells her, trying to move in again.

Clarke is proud of how quickly she maneuvers, finally getting on his other side where the door is. “I think she would, Finn. Don’t ever do that again.”

She’s out the door before he can respond, her face burning hot. A rush floods through her, disgust and relief and disbelief all at once. How could he? How could he try to kiss her when his soulmate is in the same building?

How could he try to kiss her when he has a soulmate in the first place?

It feels wrong, and it rushes through her over and over until she feels like she might actually be sick. Tears prick at her vision as her eyes flit around the room, not sure what she’s looking for until she realizes that she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t see dark curls taller than anyone else in the room, or the only smile that could ease the nausea in her stomach.

She isn’t sure he’ll want to even hear this story—she never knows exactly how much she can actually talk about soulmates around him. He’s comfortable speaking to her about them, to an extent, but she’s always so afraid of pushing too far.

She’s having trouble finding him in the crowd of people, no matter which room she looks in, and at the lack of his presence, her stomach lurches again. Leaning against the wall in the downstairs hallway, she takes a moment to inhale deeply, trying not to throw up.

_Where is he?_

It hits her suddenly, the realization of where he must be. In her haste and queasiness earlier, she hadn’t thought of it.

But now she knows, it must be where he is.

Her feet carry her up the stairs quickly and through his bedroom door without hesitation. The window is open, like she knew it would be. Without even double checking, she swings a leg through the window to climb out onto the roof. He’s there, of course, raising an eyebrow when she scooches over to him.

She shrugs. “There’s way too many people.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“Well, they say two is company.”

“Depends on who the two is,” he notes, raising an eyebrow.

Clarke glares playfully at him as she finally reaches his side. She presses close, trying to shield herself from the evening breeze, and their knees brush. His touch is comforting, like she knew it would be. All of her relaxes into him, and it feels exponentially easier to breathe. The disgust from Finn’s intrusion fades to a dull annoyance, and she can practically feel her blood pressure returning to normal.

Her breath escapes in a sigh, relieved.

She can feel Bellamy’s gaze on the side of her face. “Something’s wrong. Are you okay?”

Her eyes meet his. “How can you tell?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then hesitates, brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I just… know. So spill, princess.”

A smile tugs up the corners of her mouth for just a moment, and then she scrunches her nose. “Finn was flirting with me downstairs. He tried to kiss me.”

Bellamy stiffens immediately, and she can feel the tension from his shoulders spreading into her own through where they’re pressed together. Her body tenses almost automatically in response, regret rising in her throat.

She figured he would react this way—Raven’s soulmate flirted with her. It’s probably confirming everything he’s ever thought about soulmates all over again.

She _hates_ that.

“He did what?” Bellamy’s low voice is laced with subdued anger, as clear to her as if he’d shouted.

Suddenly feeling sick again, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it. It’s stupid. I don’t want you to be upset, and that’s probably—“

“No, Clarke, it’s not—“ He seems to cut himself off, lips pursed. She notices that his hands are balled into fists on his knees. A moment passes before he speaks again. “I know this stuff matters to you, and even if it doesn’t to me, even if I don’t get it… you do, and you deserve to. I feel like I could… I want to punch him for doing that to you.”

It makes her heart swell, knowing that his anger was only directed at Finn, not at her or even at the conversation. Something else takes her breath then, a realization that twists her stomach for an entirely different reason.

No matter what he says or believes about soulmates, or anything else, she knows the feeling coursing through her veins is love. She loves him, and how much he cares, how hard he feels things even when he tries to hide it from other people.

Nothing else matters.

It’s beautiful as much as it makes her ache.

She reaches out, putting her hand over his clenched fist and waiting until it relaxes. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

He sighs, but nods. Lifting his free hand, he rubs at the back of his neck. “Are you going to tell Raven?”

“I guess I have to.” She leans back onto the roof, hating the idea. Raven has never been anything but kind to her—she’ll hate having to break the news.

Bellamy joins her where she lies. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. I’ll start writing you a eulogy.”

She shoves weakly at his shoulder. “Jerk.”

“Apparently enough of a jerk that you’re trying to push me off of the roof.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Leaning her head against his shoulder, she takes a deep breath, as if she could inhale him and exhale everything else in her brain. Her next words feel like a weight on her tongue, drenched in how much she means them. “I’d miss you too much.”

Bellamy’s head shifts to rest against hers, and a moment passes where she can feel his smile pressed against her forehead. “Plus, Octavia would probably kill you.”

Clarke laughs, loud and sudden, before turning to try to bury the sound into his t-shirt. His own laugh shakes his chest, and she likes the rumble of it against her cheek.

“You’re probably right,” she adds, composing herself and looking back up at the stars. She can hear the noise of the party below them, but if she closes her eyes and presses just a little closer to him, it’s almost as if all of that disappears. The quiet is comfortable, and she thinks that if her feet weren’t inches away from dangling off of a roof, she could fall asleep.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Bellamy whispers, as if he, too, is worried about breaking the calm. His breath brushes against her forehead.

She shivers, her own voice soft when she speaks. “Thank you.”

* * *

Finn stops coming around without much fanfare—when Clarke walks into the Blake house a few weeks later to find an entire group of people lounging around the living room, he simply isn’t there. Raven is, however, and she gives Clarke a small smile from where she sits next to Octavia.

Clarke had told her, of course, and she assumes things fell apart from there. She hates it, despite knowing that Raven ending things was probably the right thing to do. It’s really the first time she’s seen firsthand a soulmate pairing fall apart, and she isn’t sure what to make of it.

Still, the look Raven shoots her almost feels sympathetic somehow, and Clarke is happy to still see her around.

A movie is already playing and a small handful of people are setting up a monopoly game in the dining room. The spot on the couch next to Bellamy has been left vacant, so she collapses next to him. She wonders if he left it open on purpose—he’s been a bit more attached to her lately as his twentieth birthday approaches. Despite who she is or what she may represent in the world of soulmates, he seems adamant in the belief that she’s the only one who understands how he feels.

She isn’t even sure it’s true, but she would never tell him that. 

Octavia badgers him pretty consistently, but Clarke doesn’t see any point in doing that. She lets him be, knowing that any conclusions he winds up making will be just like the ones he’s already made—he’ll have to make them himself.

Her phone buzzes as she settles in next to him, a text from her mom making sure she made it okay. Bellamy elbows her, nodding at her phone curiously. She shows him the text and then types a response.

“She really never cares that you come over here so much?” he questions in a murmur, though Clarke doesn’t think anyone would actually get upset. She knows that his tone is more so that the conversation is only theirs.

Clarke shrugs. “She’s always so busy. I think she’s just glad I have friends other than Wells.”

“Hm.” Bellamy picks his arm up and puts it behind her on the couch, and Clarke responds by throwing her legs over his knee, propping her feet in the middle of his footrest. “Well, I’m glad she doesn’t mind.”

Something in his voice is off, and she glances up, meeting his eyes. “You okay?”

“As much as usual,” he answers, still more quiet than Clarke would deem necessary.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, she infers from how tense he suddenly seems. So, she just nestles herself against his side in silence, waiting until she feels him relax. His arm comes down a little lower, until his fingers graze her shoulder. She stays quiet, and he eventually leans his head against hers where it rests on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he breathes into her hair, and she can hear what he doesn’t say loud and clear.

_Thank you for not pushing it, thank you for letting it go._

“Always,” she whispers back, trying to keep her heart inside of her chest when his arm tightens around her. “How are your Spring classes going so far?”

He talks to her then, tucked in close, telling her that he’s taking a history course that he’s excited about and another algebra class that he wishes he could skip. She listens from where her head rests on his shoulder,

Life gets busy from there, between school and trying to apply to college herself, but in the back of her brain, she knows his birthday is coming up. Still, October sneaks up on her. Every time she sees him, she can feel the stress of the approaching day rolling off of him. The closer the day gets, the less she knows how to handle it.

In a matter of days, Bellamy Blake will probably have a soul mark.

It aches to think about, because she knows he doesn’t want one. She knows that the day feels like a sentencing to him rather than something to be celebrated. He gets distant, and she’s lucky if she gets half of a conversation out of him in the week leading up to his birthday.

The day falls on a Sunday, and she wakes up that morning after a restless night, a sense of dread lodged in her throat. Still, she pulls her phone off of its charger and shoots him a text.

**Happy Birthday, Bellamy. Let  
me know if there is anything  
you need today.**

It doesn’t feel like enough. She purses her lips at his name while her fingers move restlessly over the screen.

**I’m here if you need me. Always.**

She sighs and puts her phone on the highest volume possible, hoping for the best.

He never responds.

Keeping an eye on the clock does nothing to make time pass quicker. She even sits down and finishes an English essay that isn’t due for a week to try to get the day to go by, but it doesn’t help. Time creeps slowly toward 1:14 that afternoon, and then she spends another ten minutes staring at her phone.

When she hasn’t heard anything by 1:25, she texts him.

**You okay?**

He doesn’t respond, and the text still shows as unread long enough for her to start to truly worry about him. She tries calling him three times, letting a few minutes pass between each one, and still doesn’t get a reply.

She tries Octavia, shooting her a quick message.

**Have you seen Bellamy today?**

Her response is quick.

**Just for a sec this morning. He’s kinda  
been the worst the past few days so I  
was trying to give him space today. I  
figured I’d just see him at the party. Why? **

**Just worried. I’m going to your  
place to check on him.**

**Good luck.**

Clarke doesn’t answer that, but is in her car on the way to his house five minutes later.

Her heart is hammering way too hard in her chest for the entire drive, and by the time she gets there, her fingers are stiff from gripping the steering wheel. His car is parked outside their home, which is a good sign, she hopes. Walking up the sidewalk, she tries his phone again, but it rings and rings before finally clicking to his voicemail.

Sighing and hanging up, she walks around the corner to where she knows they keep a spare key taped to a potted plant. Once inside, everything is quiet.

“Bellamy?” Her voice seems small, but it still echoes.

The living room is the cleanest she’s ever seen it, but there’s no Bellamy to be seen. She can feel her breath coming quicker as she starts to go upstairs, calling his name again.

_Please be okay_ , she prays.

Bellamy’s door is closed, so she pushes it open.

He’s there, asleep on the top of his comforter. His phone is on his nightstand, the corner light blinking with notifications that he hasn’t read. There’s a brief moment of relief as she watches his chest rise and fall. Her knees shake a little as she steps toward him, reaching up without thinking to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. Then, as the initial relief fades, annoyance takes its place.

“Bellamy.” She punches lightly at his shoulder.

He sits up kind of quickly, looking at her with a dazed expression. His eyes squint at her, the crease in his forehead deepening for a moment before he relaxes. “What?” he asks, sleep thick in his voice.

Yeah, he’s fine.

“You idiot, I’ve been texting you all day trying to check on you, and you _took a nap_?” She knows she sounds a little crazy, but the anxiousness coiled in her belly hasn’t really left yet.

“I was… tired.”

“Oh, you were tired?” She shakes her head, pressing her palms to her eyes to fight the sudden moisture there. “I’ve never known you to take a nap a day in your life, but you decide today was the day you wanted to take a nap?”

“Yes, today I decided to take a nap.” Bellamy swings his legs over to sit on the edge of his bed, eyeing her strangely. “Why do you care whether I take a nap?”

“Because I’ve been trying to call you, because I know that—” Her voice cuts off abruptly when her eyes fall to his left forearm. She swears her heart stops beating.

There, on his arm, is a dark mark. It’s a swirl of lines and curves resting on the underside of his wrist. Her eyes trace it, already trying to decide if she can place it.

When she can’t pull her eyes away from it, Bellamy follows her gaze and sees his soul mark, she assumes, for the first time.

“Oh,” falls past his lips, barely a breath. She almost laughs at the lack of reaction, but then she looks closer. His eyes are dark, his other hand curled into a fist on his thigh. He stares at the mark for a long moment, flexing his hand as if it’ll make it go away.

“It’s pretty,” Clarke tries, unable to move. For the first time in a long time, she’s lost at what to do where he’s concerned. She wishes he would look back up and meet her eyes, give her some kind of hint of what he needs. He suddenly feels like a land mine that she’s already stepped on, and that she’s one wrong move from him exploding and destroying them both.

_Please be okay_ , she begs again. _Please don’t freak out._

“I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have one.” His right hand finally unclenches, and he reaches over to brush his thumb over the mark, barely touching it. “And here it is, obvious as hell on my arm.”

“It must be punishment for hating them so much.” It’s meant to be a tease, but her voice comes out weird. Bellamy seems to fully re-register her presence then, and he puts his arm back by his side, angling the mark into his leg where she can’t see it.

It doesn’t matter – she’ll never forget it now.

Bellamy’s laugh is humorless, barely more than a heavy expense of breath. “Maybe. I do think I’m pretty justified for how I feel, but whatever decides these things definitely has a god complex, right?”

She can sense the ache in his voice, peeking out beneath the bitterness he’s projecting. It’s as apparent as the dark mark on his arm, and she can practically feel it herself.

His hurt feels like hers, too.

“Hey.” Sitting down beside him, she reaches out for his arm and wraps her fingers tightly around his wrist. It’s easy to purposefully shift her hand, fully covering up the dark lines. His eyes meet hers, wary, and it feels like a knife in her chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The way you feel about all of this is valid, Bellamy. It doesn’t matter how anyone else feels, you have the right to feel the way you do. At least to me.”

He nods, ducking his head. “Thanks, Clarke.”

She has to ask, the question is already at the very front of her brain. Still, it burns on her tongue. “Do you… do you recognize it?” 

Bellamy gently moves his arm out of her grasp, feeling a bit more stable now, studying his mark more closely. “No, I don’t. No one I know has it yet.”

Clarke nods, though she isn’t sure how she should feel about this revelation. “That’s… that’s good, right? Easier for you?”

Bellamy nods, somber. “Yeah. Now, I just hope to never find the match for the rest of my life.”

“You could tattoo over it, or always wear sweat bands on your arms. Or really clunky bracelets.”

That works—the corners of his lips twitch. The smirk he shoots her is all Bellamy, _her_ Bellamy. “Are these supposed to be good suggestions?”

She softly bumps her shoulder into his. “It’s all I got, Blake. Take it or leave it.”

He pretends to take that into consideration, laughing when she shoves him back onto his pillow. He bounces back up with a grin, picking up his phone from his nightstand.

“Jesus, you did call and text me a lot, princess.”

“I was worried!” she retorts. “I didn’t know if you had driven off a cliff at 1:14 or not.”

“Hm.” He clears some of the notifications, and she hears him swallow. “Well, you’d miss me too much, right?”

“Yes, absolutely,” she whispers, looping her arm into his and resting her head on his shoulder. “So, are you okay?”

He turns his arm over in his lap, eyes intense as if the mark might come to life and crawl right off of his arm. His eyes shift over gradually, until they meet hers. She just waits, propping her chin up on his bicep.

Eventually, he smiles, just a little. “Yeah, Clarke. I’m okay.”

Deliberately, she picks up his hand and pulls it to her thigh, studying the mark there again. She squeezes his fingers as she studies it, following the lines back and forth with her index finger. He leans against her, and she can feel him sharing this weight with her, like he’s letting her carry some of the burden.

She’s more than happy to.

“It _is_ pretty, at least.”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess. Come on, let’s go do something else. I need to distract myself until this stupid party that Octavia insisted on.”

They wind up watching a sitcom together on the couch, tossing popcorn at each other and trying to catch it in their mouths until it’s time for the party. Octavia comes in at some point, but she doesn’t say much upon arrival. She just immediately sets out the food and works on getting the backyard set up for their fire. They help where they can, but Bellamy seems reluctant to be alone with his sister, and as such, Clarke glues herself to his side until guests start to arrive.

Miller and Raven are first, and Clarke is a little surprised when Raven gives her a hug upon seeing her.

It goes a little downhill from there.

A handful of people show up at once from there, and when everyone seems to be congregated in the living room, Murphy speaks up. “So, Bellamy, did you get a mark or what?”

Harper grins, eyes wide. “Yeah, come on. Let’s see that bad boy.”

Clarke feels the tension in Bellamy despite being on the other side of the room. She can see the way his shoulders are stiff as his eyes flick up, and instead of finding the eyes of anyone else in the room, he immediately finds hers. Even though she doesn’t understand how these people who are supposed to know him could put him on the spot like that, there isn’t really time to dwell on it.

She moves quickly, her body in motion before she’s even finished the thought. She reaches out as casually as possible and grabs his wrist, purposefully covering the mark on his arm with her fingers. “Hey, enough badgering the birthday boy. Let’s go out to the bonfire in the backyard. We have everything set up back there.”

Everyone seems to agree pretty easily, and as soon as most of them are out of the way, she grabs Bellamy’s jacket off of the kitchen table and hands it to him. “It’s a little chilly out there, so you might definitely need this to keep your arms warm.”

He takes the piece of clothing from her, immediately enveloping her in a hug. His free hand finds the back of her neck and he clings, his body shaking a little as he exhales, his face buried in her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She holds him back, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m always here to help a damsel in distress.”

His chuckle is short, just a moment of his breath brushing against her neck. “Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Finding the task difficult, she pulls away from him, squeezing his arms as she does so. “No worries. Now come on, put on that very suitable long-sleeved jacket, and let’s go enjoy your birthday party.”

He does enjoy it, she thinks. No one publicly asks him about his soul mark again, and his jacket is long enough to cover it up and give him the choice of whether or not anyone sees it. She catches his eyes a few times, and once, he winks at her and she nearly chokes on her sprite.

“So, do you already have his mark memorized?”

Raven appears beside her suddenly, sitting next to Clarke on the bench swing.

“I don’t—”

“I saw it when we first got here, I just wasn’t going to be the asshole that asked.” Raven shrugs. “Plus, I know you have a crush on him.” 

Clarke hesitates, but when she looks over at Raven, her eyes are simply open, understanding. “This is okay? To talk to you about this?”

“I don’t hold Finn against you, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replies, settling a bit more into the bench. “I can just tell how you feel about him. And you were here way before anyone else, right?”

“I came over to check on him earlier, after he got his mark,” Clarke tells her, voice quiet.

“I’m sure he appreciates having someone who gets him, even if that’s _the princess_.” The nickname sounds wrong coming from Raven, and it makes her realize how much she’s come to associate it with only Bellamy. “He’s always been so weird about the soulmates thing, you know?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, I guess. I’m still not sure how that someone winded up being me, either.”

“Hm.” Raven pulls one knee up to his chest, propping her chin on it. “I guess I can get how he feels now, to an extent.”

“I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Raven tilts her head. “I’ve seen worse stories, and I still believe that soulmates are supposed to be good for us, even if it’s just to… teach us something. They serve a purpose. They have to.”

Pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, Clarke glances back over to where Bellamy is laughing with Miller. She can still see the lines around his eyes, the stress of the day that anyone else would miss. “I think you’re right.”

“Anyway. I guess you have to wait… what? About two years to see if yours matches?”

Clarke sighs, looking back to Raven. “I don’t know… if it matching would matter, given the way he feels.”

The words feel weird, like she’s betraying a secret, even if it’s something that everyone already knows. There’s a long pause, but Raven just nods after a moment, reaching out to squeeze Clarke’s shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

She gets up then, tossing Clarke a quick smile over her shoulder as she walks over to Monty. Clarke stares after her, a little thrown by her abruptness. Still, she knows what Raven has just inadvertently plopped into her lap—someone she can talk to that isn’t Bellamy’s sister.

The party dies down from there, and eventually, it’s just her and the Blake siblings left. Octavia approaches her and Bellamy when they’re in the kitchen, fingers tangled together in front of her body.

She doesn’t really ask, but her eyes are sharp as she looks at them, waiting. Bellamy huffs, and then pulls his sleeve back to hold up his wrist to her. Octavia waits only a moment, and then shakes her head. “I don’t recognize it.”

“Good.” Bellamy immediately puts his wrist back down. “Don’t go looking for it either.”

“But if you just—”

“Octavia, no.”

Octavia’s eyes find hers, like she’s willing Clarke to be on her side.

But of course, she isn’t. She can’t be, not this time. “It’s his mark on his arm, Octavia. It’s his decision, whatever he wants to do about it.”

For a moment, it looks like there might be another argument, but then Octavia gives up, going up to her room without another word.

“I can talk to her.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I think it’s just something she’ll have to work out on her own.”

He goes to take a shower a few minutes later, and Clarke walks up to Octavia’s room, knocking gently.

“What?”

She enters, heart feeling heavy.

Octavia is lying flat on her back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “I figured you of all people would convince Bellamy that he should try to find his soulmate.”

“At the end of the day, it is his choice, Octavia. It’s not up to me or you to decide what he does. I’m sorry if that hurts you.”

Octavia’s chin suddenly trembles, and her next words come out a little broken. “I just want him to be happy. And that’s what soulmates are supposed to do, right? He spends so much time worrying about me and I… I know I wasn’t old enough to remember what happened. It just seems like he would at least try.”

“Soulmates have never done anything but hurt him, Octavia.” Clarke lies down beside her then, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling.

Octavia just breathes for a few minutes, her exhales shaky. “I know you’re right, Clarke. Trust me, I know. I just… I still hope, you know?”

Clarke’s heart twists in her chest at her friend’s quiet admission, the ache almost consuming. She closes her eyes, but a tear still slips past into the hair by her ear. “Yeah, I know.”


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this! i got writer's block a couple of times and struggled to connect pieces, considering that this chapter is supposed to span about two years in total. I'm still not 100% sure about it honestly? but anyway :)

_you get it so wrong, until the right love  
makes you realize that there’s a one and only _

* * *

Bellamy having a soul mark isn’t as difficult of an adjustment as Clarke thought it would be.

The first week, people ask about it and beg to see it, and Clarke finds that she can’t stop them or help him avoid the situation. All she can do is press herself closer to him as he huffs and turns his wrist over when someone asks. Then, she has to fight a mixed emotion of relief and guilt every time someone says that they don’t recognize it. Octavia doesn’t bring it up again, at least, and within a few days, she’s right back to plopping herself beside them when Clarke is over, grinning her wide smile and throwing popcorn at her brother when he complains about what they’re watching.

Normal returns quicker than she had expected it to, but she still wonders if it bothers him. She can’t imagine what it’s like to have it there on his arm, where everyone can see, where he can see it every time he picks something up or every time he even looks down. He wears a watch when they’re going somewhere super public, like one day when she meets him for lunch at a deli in town nearly a month later. It doesn’t cover it all, but it’s enough that no one should be able to recognize it without making it obvious that they’re staring.

Which, of course, Bellamy won’t let anyone do.

Further, she spends most days terrified that maybe he will find his soulmate, and maybe everyone who said he would change his mind will wind up being right.

And then she’d lose him.

Even so, she squeezes in close to him in the corner booth of the deli on that day, trying to keep her tone even when she asks, “How’s it going? Is everyone finally leaving you alone about… about your mark?”

Bellamy glances over at her, uneven smirk plastered on his lips. He leans back, putting his arm on the back of the seat behind her. “You can stop looking at me like that, you know.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, trying to ignore the warmth she can feel on the nape of her neck and shoulders from his proximity. “Like what?”

“Like…” He purses his lips, considering. “Like I’m going to break out of nowhere and that it’s your sole responsibility to keep it from happening.”

“You’re my best friend,” she replies honestly, jabbing him lightly with her elbow. “ _Isn’t_ it my responsibility?”

“I don’t—" He stops short, tilting his head at her. “I’m your best friend?”

His question catches her off guard, and her mouth hangs open for a moment before she can find the words to respond. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” 

“Octavia?”

“I love your sister, and she’s extremely important to me. Same with Wells—he’s practically a brother to me.” She shrugs, despite the clear truth in her words. “But you? I don’t know, you’re different.”

His lips part a few times and close again as he considers her words, but in the end, he just uses the arm on the back of the bench to grip her shoulder and pull her into his chest. His hand tangles in the hair at her neck and she just breathes, begging her heart to stay in her chest.

“I’m okay, princess,” he whispers after a moment, and despite the bustle of the restaurant around them, it feels like they’re alone in their own world. “But I appreciate you checking on me. I am very lucky to have a best friend like you.”

Emotions overwhelm her as she holds him back, freezing her tongue and holding the air in her lungs.

_You’re wrong._

She prays that he knows without the words being spoken.

_I’m lucky to have you_.

* * *

When she and Octavia graduate the following May, a few of their friends pool their resources to rent a beach house in Florida for a weekend, inviting some of their classmates and a few of their older friends. It winds up being ten of them in a four-bedroom house, and because it’s easier, Clarke winds up sharing a room with Octavia and Bellamy. It’s a king-sized bed and Octavia takes up residence in the middle, but Clarke can still feel Bellamy’s presence just a few feet away. That first night, she feels like she wakes up every time he moves, with each shift on the other side of the mattress.

They spend most of the first day at the beach, not using nearly enough sunscreen but having too much fun to care.

At one point late in the afternoon, she sits down at the very edge of the water, enjoying the way the incoming tide brushes up against her ankles, and Bellamy plops himself down next to her, grin wide and goofy. She reaches out without thinking about it, pushing his long, damp hair out of his eyes. This, at least, keeps her eyes from trailing down to his exposed chest or torso.

He’s so beautiful, truly. Her heart aches as she looks at him, watching in fascination as his grin softens, turning sweeter. The freckles on his cheeks are becoming even more prominent in the sun, dotting his cheeks and nose. The smirk that begins to color his features as she stares at him is nearly sinful, and her heart leaps in her chest. She drops her hand, pushing it into the sand next to her hip in an attempt to stop touching him.

“You might need a haircut soon,” she muses, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughs, shaking his head and once again getting hair in his eyes. “Maybe.”

“I might could cut it for you—I’m sure the house has a bowl and some kitchen scissors I can use.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bellamy responds, rolling his eyes. “Like I’m going to let you anywhere near my hair with scissors.”

Clarke feigns hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not with my hair, princess.” Bellamy reaches out to pinch at her side, and she squirms away from him. “Everything else, yes. Not the hair.”

“Fine, fair enough.” She holds her hands up in surrender, and they settle back against each other.

They sit like that for a long moment, just content in each other’s company. Wells, Raven, Harper, and Monty are trying to play chicken and failing, the waves a bit too rough for prolonged play. Octavia is body surfing with Emori, their laughter loud enough to reach the shore, while Murphy and Jasper are gone, having walked up to the beach house for something to drink.

Bellamy’s elbow nudges hers, and she refocuses her attention on him. “Are you having a good time?”

She smiles. “Yes, definitely.”

He purses his lips, but she can see the grin in his eyes. “I feel like you haven’t spent nearly enough time in the water today.”

“And what do you suggest I do about that?”

She already knows.

Bellamy has picked her up before she even finishes her question, tossing her over his shoulder. She wriggles a little in his grasp, but she couldn’t fight him even if she wanted to. Besides, with his hands on the back of her thighs, she can’t really focus on motor function, anyway.

The water is cool when she’s submerged in it, resurfacing to find Bellamy’s smiling expression. She narrows her eyes at him, but he knows just as well as she does that her anger is nonexistent.

“You’re the worst,” she says through a giggle, throwing her braid back over her shoulder.

Bellamy grins wider. “You love me.”

Rolling her eyes is the least incriminating response she can find with the way her heart nearly leaps out of her chest at his words. Thankfully, Murphy calls his name from the shore anyway, giving her an out. She joins Octavia and Emori, jumping over a few waves before glancing back only to meet Bellamy’s eyes. He winks at her, and she just shakes her head.

_God_ , she _does_ love him.

* * *

“Hey, Bellamy, I have a friend on one of those soul mark matching websites, and the other day I saw one that might match yours.”

It’s later that night, with all of them in the living area with chips, queso, and beer, the only Bellamy-approved-for-his-eighteen-year-old-sister beverage, that Emori breaches the topic of soulmates unprompted.

Clarke’s breath catches, and it’s almost as if she and Bellamy freeze in unison from where they sit on the floor, shoulders tensing against each other.

It’s just for different reasons.

“Oh, huh.” Bellamy’s voice sounds strange, tight with the strain of being polite despite not wanting to have the conversation. When she risks a peek over at him, she finds that he’s already looking at her, too. She leans a little heavier into his shoulder, hoping he can’t hear how hard her heart is beating.

“I jotted down their email, if you’re interested.” Emori doesn’t sense his discomfort from where she’s tucked into Murphy’s side across the room.

Bellamy audibly swallows, and she feels his body lean even further into her. “Um, I… I don’t…”

Through the fear that Emori might be right about the matching mark and the fog clouding her brain as a result, Clarke is surprised to hear her voice. “Did your friend have any luck on there? I hear sometimes they can be a headache to sort through.”

Emori responds, but Clarke isn’t really listening. It wasn’t the best distraction she’s ever come up with, but, at least for the moment, it gets the attention off of Bellamy and his mark. He relaxes beside her, and when the conversation moves on, it doesn’t go back to marks and soulmates.

Still, the idea that someone out there already has a soul mark that matches his makes her restless. Her sleep is light that night, and she wakes up several times. To make it worse, Bellamy has trouble sleeping, too. While Octavia sleeps peacefully, she and Bellamy toss and turn. 

So, when Bellamy gets up and walks out to the balcony, Clarke is already awake. When she gets up to follow him, his hoodie is thrown into one of the chairs, so she pulls it on over her tank top and pajama shorts. The air outside is cool, but not too cold, when she closes the door behind her for Octavia’s sake, just in case.

He glances over his shoulder when she approaches, and she can see the sleepiness in his eyes. “Can’t sleep either?”

She joins him in leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean. “Nope.”

Bellamy’s sigh is heavy, but they settle against each other after a moment, almost automatically.

“Is this about what Emori said?”

A moment passes, and Clarke listens to the sounds of waves crashing to try and calm her heart, even as it breaks. Bellamy needs her, and it doesn’t matter how she feels.

Not right now.

“I wish people would understand that I don’t…” He huffs, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I’ve told everyone so many times, but nobody ever listens.”

“I could start punching people.”

Bellamy laughs, his eyes a little brighter when he glances over at her. “That might work.”

Silence falls again after she chuckles, too, and Clarke shifts, looping one of her arms through his and resting her head on his arm.

_“You love me.”_ He had grinned around the words earlier, like he had no idea the weight they held.

_I love you, I love you. You’re right, I love you._

“I’d do anything for you,” is what she says, pressed close to him in the dark. He nods, putting his hand overs hers and squeezing.

He doesn’t really respond to her statement other than that, but after a moment, he turns to face her. Her arm falls back to her side. She watches while his eyes trace her face, wondering why she can feel heat everywhere that his eyes touch. “How’s your sunburn?”

“It’s fine,” she says, but something in the moment suddenly feels different, and she can’t find any other words.

Bellamy continues to stare down at her, eyes sharp and clear even in the dimmed light. Slowly, he reaches up, tenderly brushing his fingers across her lightly sunburned cheek. His fingers are relatively cool, and her eyes flutter closed at his touch. When they open again, his gaze repeats its trail over her face and then falls lower, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“My hoodie looks good on you, princess.” His voice is soft, _so soft_ , and she’s pretty sure she’s close to having oxygen deprivation because she’s held her breath too long. “Thank you for checking on me.”

He releases her then, walking back inside and sliding the door closed. His warmth lingers, and her breath escapes her in a rush. Her brain races to catch up, like it hasn’t processed anything the entire time he was touching her.

After a moment, she gives up. In a slightly sleep-deprived state, she has no hope of deciphering what just happened. Further, when his smiles the next day seem normal, she wonders if she dreamed the entire exchange.

But then Octavia mumbles about _where did they go_ _last night_ at breakfast, and Clarke can still feel the warmth on her cheek that has nothing to do with her recent sun exposure.

“Just for some air,” she replies, meeting Bellamy’s smirk across the breakfast bar.

So, it was real. She just has no idea what it means.

“Just when I think I have everything figured out or at least have accepted everything, it all changes again,” Clarke confesses to Raven later that morning, fighting past the moisture stinging her eyes.

Raven purses her lips, hands twisted together in her lap. A few people are still asleep, and Bellamy went with Octavia to walk down the beach, so it’s just the two of them in the bedroom that she’s sharing with the Blakes.

“Like just getting used to him having a soul mark and then someone thinking that they found it?”

“Exactly.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair before shoving it back into the pocket of Bellamy’s hoodie. She had fallen asleep in it, and after taking a shower when she woke up, putting it back on had felt comforting.

“Clarke, he has a soul mark. He has soulmate. Either it’s you, or it isn’t.” Raven reaches over, squeezing Clarke’s arm. “Until he finds them or you get yours, this is… this is how it’s going to be.”

"I know you're right." Clarke closes her eyes, but a tear slips past her eyelids anyway. “But I love him.”

“I know,” Raven muses. “So, let’s say this is a match. Maybe he won’t care.”

“But if he doesn’t care, that means if there’s ever going to be a chance, I’d eventually have to not care, too.”

Raven shakes her head. “I don’t know. Love is love, you know? I mean, my soulmate clearly didn’t work out. I just have to hope that maybe one day I’ll meet someone else who… doesn’t care.”

“Maybe you should date Bellamy,” Clarke mutters, but she quickly backtracks. “I’m kidding, please don’t.”

“Been there once, don’t worry. I don’t plan to repeat that mistake.” Clarke raises an eyebrow, but Raven’s phone buzzes and she shakes her head. “That’s a story for another time. I asked Emori to send me the picture of this supposed match.”

Lips pursed, she turns the screen toward Clarke.

Her relief is immediate, breath rushing from her lungs. “It’s not his.”

Raven looks at it again. “Really? I thought it looked just like it?”

“Bellamy’s has the second swirl off of the left side, and it’s got parallel lines on the left edge, center, and top right side. That one has parallel lines over the whole swirl.” Clarke rattles off the details, leaning back to stare at the roof.

“Wow, you really do have that thing memorized.”

“I…” Clarke sighs, pressing her hand over her eyes. It wasn’t his, but what if the next one is? Her relief is overshadowed by the ache in her chest. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Have you ever thought about telling him how you feel?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No. It’s too complicated.”

“Is it?” Raven asks. “Or are you just scared?”

“I…” She stops, biting her lip. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, let me know if you ever figure it out.”

Clarke presses her palm into her forehead, suddenly fighting a headache. “Yeah, sure thing.”

* * *

**Where are you?**

**Why? Miss me?**

**Basically always, princess.**

Clarke smiles at her phone, glancing out the window at the slowly fading light outside. Rolling her eyes, she types her response.

**What can I do for you, Bellamy?**

**Walk on the beach?**

**Be right there.** **😊**

She finds him on the porch, and he makes a show of offering her his arm, though once they’re walking down the beach, she lets him go. He tucks his hands into his jean pockets, glancing out at the ocean.

“So, is this the part where you kill me and dump my body in the ocean?”

Bellamy grins. “Damn, you figured out my four-year murder plan. How dare you.”

Clarke bumps into him, laughing when his footing slips in the loose sand. “Maybe I’m the killer.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, smile wide. “So, you really enjoying this trip? It was worth it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to hang out with everyone. I’m going to college like an hour away, so even though that’s not a terrible distance, this is a really good trip to end this… period of my life on.”

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving me.” Bellamy nudges her with his elbow, and she knows he’s teasing.

“It’s not personal, you’ll just have to come visit me.”

“I definitely will.”

Clarke smiles. “Good.”

They walk for another minute before sitting on the dry sand just a few feet away from the water to stare at the darkening sky. Bellamy leans back a bit on his hands, shifting just enough to prop his head against hers. His touch is a comfort, as usual. She leans into him, watching the waves in the distance as silence lingers for a moment.

“Emori showed me the soul mark she found.”

It feels almost automatic to hold her breath, tensing at the breach of soulmates as a topic of conversation. But Bellamy is peaceful, his demeanor much calmer than usual when talking about soulmates. So, she relaxes.

“Did it match?” She already knows, of course.

“No.” He exhales slowly, like he’s trying not to freak out. “Thankfully.”

“Yeah, you dodged a bullet for sure,” she agrees, shifting a little closer to him. He’s warm, and even through his hoodie, his heat is undeniable. There’s a slight chill in the breeze that seems to disappear as she settles against him. Despite the turmoil that continues in her brain, he feels safe. Even though he’s the source and subject of the stress she feels when it comes to soulmates, his presence is a relief.

The conundrum only confuses her more.

* * *

Her first year of college winds up being an experience that helps her tremendously. There’s less talk about soulmates—most college students, at least freshman, don’t really care yet. Her first year flies by in a flash, but to his credit, Bellamy keeps his promise. At least once a month, they get lunch or dinner together, and, as far as she knows, no one has found his mark yet.

Not that he’s looking, of course.

She spends a lot of time with Bellamy that summer, going to movies and amusement parks and anywhere else they can. Octavia goes with them most of the time, as well as Raven and some of their other friends.

But it’s always them.

When fall comes back around and she heads back to campus, the hug he gives her after helping her pack her car makes tears sting in her vision. His arms are tight and he buries his face in her hair, and in that moment, she’s never loved him more.

“I’m going to miss you, again.”

Clarke smiles. “Well, your sister is transferring and moving into an apartment with me, so you have no excuse not to visit.”

“You’re all the excuse I need, anyway.” The smile he gives her when he pulls away to look at her is soft and full of an affection that shocks her a bit. It almost feels like her own affection for him, gentle and strong all at once. She holds tight to his arms, her heart refusing to let him go yet.

“Good.” _I love you, I love you, I love you._

There’s a moment, small and gone in a flash, where she thinks that he might kiss her. Or that she might kiss him. He winds up just pulling her back into his arms for a second hug, and she chides herself for being foolish.

Still, his lips do press to her head, and it does make her wonder if the love she saw on his face was from him, or if it was just her own love reflected in his eyes.

* * *

In her first month back her sophomore year, Clarke meets Lexa, who winds up being a welcome distraction.

They spend three months together, and it’s fun. It’s easy and carefree, and it never really gets complicated. They rarely talk about soulmates, despite both of them being nineteen. It’s a relief to just be with someone without that burden.

Even so, Lexa picks up on Clarke’s feelings for Bellamy pretty quickly, after him visiting once on a weekend in September.

“I noticed that this boy you love has a soul mark,” Lexa mentions that night, finger stroking down Clarke’s cheek. “Is that why you aren’t with him?”

Clarke sighs. “Kind of?”

“You seem unsure.” Lexa eyes are sharp, and Clarke wonders if she ever misses anything. Her perceptiveness is unrivaled by anyone she knows.

“It’s pretty complicated, but it would probably never work anyway.”

“Why is that?” Lexa shifts, but her expression is open, understanding.

"It's complicated." Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

A kiss changes the conversation, and it doesn’t get brought up again. Lexa is a solution for Clarke’s heart for a short time, and despite Clarke genuinely liking her, it was never something that was going to last. So, when they break up in November, she isn’t really surprised.

They were always going to be temporary.

* * *

Raven gets a job close to their campus in December of that year, and she moves into Clarke and Octavia’s spare bedroom. It’s a relatively easy adjustment, and as Clarke’s twentieth birthday approaches, having Raven around is actually a relief.

“I wish I could stop time for just a little longer,” Clarke tells her one night, rubbing at her already tired eyes. “Bellamy and I are really good right now, and I’m terrified of… what me having a mark might mean.”

“I think you’ll adjust, just like you did when he got his.”

“Maybe.” Clarke sighs, staring at a notecard that she’s read three times. “But this feels different, heavier.”

“Because you actually want a soulmate?”

She nods. “I do. I’ve spent my whole life believing in the beauty of them. It’s hard to change that, even with some of the things I know now.”

“Do you… do you want it to be Bellamy?” Raven asks. “You guys are in a really good place, right? You said you’ve had a few moments that you thought were… something more? Maybe it would… maybe it would be okay?”

Raven is treading slowly and carefully, Clarke can tell. Still, her heart feels like lead in her chest. “Bellamy being my soulmate is… everything that I want and don’t want all at the same time. I can’t even imagine having to tell him that. I mean, he probably still wouldn’t want me, you know? Not that way. Plus, if I get someone else, maybe they can help me get over him.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Raven tilts her head. “What can I do, to help?”

“Listening to me ramble on endlessly about this no-win situation is good, thanks.” Clarke tries to smile at her. “And you being there, you know, when it happens, that’d be great.”

“You got it, Griffin.”

* * *

It’s Christmas when she sees Bellamy again, and when she tells him about her split with Lexa.

“I mean, you’ll have a soulmate soon anyway, right?” Bellamy says, propped up on his elbows against the roof. There’s the smallest amount of tension in his shoulders, but his voice sounds a little weird, too. She knows his “soulmate” tension and voice pretty well by now.

This isn’t it.

Clarke tilts her head at him. “I guess.”

“I am sorry, though. Breakups are tough regardless.”

It seems like he means it, but when leaning into his body does nothing to ease the stress she can feel coming from him, she hesitates.

“Yeah, it does suck a little, but… it was always going to be temporary.”

“Well, yeah.” Bellamy stares out at the road as a car passes, eyes unfocused. “I mean, you’ll get your mark soon.”

She finally place his tone: he’s bitter.

_Why is he bitter?_

And through the ache that’s been slowly rising in her chest, Clarke suddenly realizes this is the last conversation that she wants to have with him right now.

“Congratulations, you know when my birthday is.” She tries to make a joke, hoping he’ll understand that for the first time, she’s the one who doesn’t want to talk about it.

He gets it, shrugging his shoulders in surrender. “Okay. I’m just saying… maybe soon you won’t have to worry about this stuff anymore.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She suddenly feels a bit bitter herself, anger seeping into her heart. “And maybe your soulmate will show up on your doorstep one day, and you’ll fall in love with them.”

Bellamy doesn’t seem to notice the shift in her own voice. “Yeah, nice try. It’s still not happening, ever.”

She swallows past the lump in her throat, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “Of course not.”

Tension settles in the air, and after a moment, Bellamy sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s whate—”

“It’s not.” He reaches over, putting his hand over one of hers. “All the times you’ve been everything I needed when it comes to this stuff, and… I’m just trying to do the same. I guess I’m not as good at it as you.”

_That’s not it,_ she wants to say. _It’s because I love you, because no matter what mark shows up on my body in two months, it’s a losing situation_.

“I know you’re trying,” is what she says, biting back the truth, again.

“I… I know even for those that are… soulmate inclined, or whatever, that this can still be stressful.” Bellamy’s voice is quiet, sincere, and Clarke can feel a small sense of calm returning to her body. “I hope whatever happens, that it works out for you. You deserve that.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She looks at him, testing a theory. “But you know that some mark doesn’t mean you’re going to lose me. I’ll always be here for you.”

His exhale is shaky, and when he wraps an arm around her and pulls her into his chest, he finally seems to relax a little.

It shocks her to realize that maybe their fears are more similar than she thought, despite being based in different issues. She’s afraid to lose him if she winds up being his soulmate, and he’s afraid to lose her to a soulmate that will never have the same power over her that he does.

Even if Bellamy doesn't realize that.

Despite knowing it’s dangerous to flirt so close to the edge of too far, she shifts closer to him and leans into his warmth, one hand resting on his knee. Except tonight, his touch is fire, burning her everywhere that their bodies are connected. It spreads, and she closes her eyes, letting the pain consume her.

She’s already burned, anyway.

Clarke cries herself to sleep that night to the memory of that heat, because for her whole life, she thought soulmates were supposed to be something beautiful, something pure and simple.

But now she’s in love with someone who doesn’t want a soulmate, and no mark on her body will ever take away those feelings. Even so, if his mark winds up being her own, he’ll resent her, and maybe never speak to her again. More so than ever, she would represent everything that he distrusts, everything that he hates.

And as much as part of her yearns to wind up with his mark in two months, she knows which of those options would be easier.

At least, she thinks she does.

* * *

When the day comes, Clarke isn’t ready.

“So, are you nervous?”

Clarke sighs, glancing up from the notecards that she hasn’t been reading. Her watch reads 9:24, indicating only five minutes has passed since the last time she looked. She looks over at Raven and shrugs.

“I guess.”

Raven’s eyes narrow, seeing through Clarke’s façade. 

At exactly 9:37 PM on today, her twentieth birthday, her soul mark should appear somewhere on her body. This mark, whatever it may be, has (or will have) an exact match on someone else in the world.

And that person is her soulmate, the person that she’s destined to be with, regardless of who she actually loves.

If she had imagined this day years ago, before she met Bellamy Blake, she would have pictured it as something beautiful. Growing up, soul marks were supposed to represent everything good in the world, and a twentieth birthday was something to be celebrated grandly.

Now, it feels like a sentencing.

It’s overwhelming, and it’s been all she can do to keep herself distracted throughout the day. Her mother had wanted her home, to share the moment with her. Clarke could imagine her mother sitting there with her computer, ready to write a new installment in her soulmate series, excited for her daughter, finally getting a soulmate.

But ever since Clarke realized the complexity of soulmates, particularly in regard to her feelings for Bellamy, it’s not exactly a subject she feels like she can approach her mom with anymore. She’d made up excuses to avoid being home today, despite her mother’s wishes.

Her throat feels suddenly tight. “Look, I might uh, like… go in the bathroom and, you know, see it for myself first. I’ll still let you see it, but… I just…”

“No, I get it,” Raven tells her, her smile soft. Through the past few months, she’s stayed a calm presence for Clarke when it comes to soulmates. She can’t exactly talk about them with her best friend, not really. “Are you… any chance you changed your mind? That you’re hoping it’s his?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m still hoping it’s not, I think. I know it won’t be— I just mean… I figure if I have a soulmate, maybe I can get over him. It’s the best option I’ve got.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No, but I’m hoping.”

Raven purses her lips. “But you still love him.”

“Of course.” Clarke takes a breath, putting her chemistry notes to the side. “But as long as Bellamy doesn’t want a soulmate, I don’t want it to be me. Because if he doesn’t want a soulmate, then he won’t want me. He might even resent me for it.”

As if sensing her distress, her phone dings with a text from Bellamy.

**I feel like I should tell you good luck?**

Clarke smiles a little, despite herself.

**You don’t have to, I know**

**how you feel about this stuff.**

**But it’s important to you, isn’t it?**

**Yeah, kinda.**

It isn’t a lie in particular, but the weight of her omitted information feels heavy. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and she stares at the screen wondering what would make him hesitate. 

**Good luck, then.**

**Thanks, I’ll see you at the**

**party tomorrow, right?**

**Wouldn’t miss it for the  
world, princess. **

Clarke sighs, putting her phone down. Raven is watching her closely, gaze thoughtful.

“I hope your plan works out for you,” she says, but Clarke can hear the skepticism in her voice.

“I hope it works out for me, too,” Clarke says simply, glancing back at her watch. Only a few more minutes. “I’m going to…”

Raven nods, tugging her phone out of her pocket and effectively releasing Clarke from her perceptive stare. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m here if you need me.”

She goes into her bathroom and closes the door, stripping down to just her underwear. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, and for a moment, she just hopes for a good story, a relatively happy ending. She doesn’t want to wind up like the Blakes’ parents, or like Finn and Raven. 

Despite the fact that some people in her life think that this thing is just a stupid mark that doesn’t mean anything and have made her question it herself, she still wants one. Even with some of the stories she’s heard of soulmates gone wrong, even with a best friend that doesn’t trust soulmates, her desire to have a person who is innately her other half is enticing.

At least she’d have _someone_.

Reopening her eyes, she reminds herself that she might not recognize the mark, that she might not have met her soulmate yet, or that her soulmate might be younger than her and not have a mark yet at all.

Maybe she could join one of the online forums to try to find the match.

She looks at her watch, now sitting on the bathroom sink and staring up at her. Big blue numbers show 9:36 PM. Any second now.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she traces her eyes over her body, turning to look at her back before facing her reflection once again. She turns her arms over, looks on her calves and ankles, but doesn’t see anything. Standing back up straight, she once again gives herself a once over.

“Anything?” Raven’s voice is muffled by the door.

“Not yet,” Clarke says, still scanning her pale skin in the mirror.

She almost misses it—the light lines peeking out from underneath the top of her panties, on her right hip. Tugging down the seam enough that she can see the deepening gray mark on her skin, she studies it as it appears. It slowly gets darker, one shade for every few seconds, she figures.

Still, it feels like one moment it’s barely there, and the next, she can finally make out what it is.

And her breath catches in her throat.

Raven is still on the other side of the door, waiting, but for a moment, there is nothing else except the mark on her skin, darkening with every passing second. Dark lines swirl around and back, curving into a beautiful image. She recognizes the mark easily, despite the tears that are already blurring her vision. It’s a mark she’s had burned into her memory for more than two years.

Bellamy’s.

_No_.

No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She’s supposed to get a soulmate, find someone who can help her let Bellamy go and finally get over him. Yet, here she stands with Bellamy Blake’s soul mark now black and intimidating on her hip, taunting her.

Sometimes, she had entertained the thought that she would want his mark, but now that it’s there, staring her in the face, it feels almost like a punishment.

“Can I come in?”

Clarke hesitates, but in a moment supposed to symbolize having a partner for life, she’s never felt more alone. “Yeah.”

Raven opens the door, finding Clarke’s gaze and following it to the mark on her hip. “Pretty,” she says, almost absentmindedly, before her eyes widen. “Wait, is that—”

“Bellamy’s soul mark. Yeah.” Clarke’s voice sounds weird to her ears.

“Oh, my God.”

“Yep.”

“ _Oh, my God._ ”

Clarke huffs. “Please say something else.”

“No, this is good, Clarke, really. I can’t believe it’s really his, but…” Raven puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I know you probably don’t think it’s good, but you already love him. You guys will make great soulmates, I think. Like, the way it’s actually supposed to be.”

Clarke stares at the mark as if it will change, but it seems like it’s still growing darker instead, becoming even more of a presence on her skin.

_“Promise me that when I get my soul mark, you won’t let me look for them. I don’t want to find them.”_

Tears flood her vision, and her hand trembles when she brushes it across the mark on her hip.

_“I don’t even want to meet them.”_

_“It’s still not happening, ever.”_

She makes her decision in that single moment, her mind suddenly clear. Still, it breaks her heart. “I’m not going to tell him.”

“Clarke.” Raven’s voice sounds suddenly parental.

“He doesn’t want a soulmate, Raven. He’s made that pretty clear.” Clarke’s voice trembles as she puts her shirt back on, covering the mark. It still burns when she can no longer see it, like it could rip right through the fabric and show itself to the world.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t want you. He knows you so well, maybe he’ll take it seriously if he knows it’s you.”

Clarke shakes her head. “But what if he doesn’t want me? What if he resents me for buying into something that he hates so much and how it now connects to him? What if… it ruins our friendship? I can’t take that chance. He’s my best friend. I’m not going to mess that up. I can’t risk it. It’s not worth that.”

“But he’s your soulmate,” Raven whispers, incredulous.

“Yeah, and Finn was yours. Bellamy’s parents were soulmates.” Clarke tugs her shorts up and stares in the mirror where the mark is. She can’t see it now, but she can feel it, and it taunts her all the same. “But sometimes that doesn’t mean anything.”

“But—”

“Can I have a minute, please?” Clarke begs, grabbing Raven’s hand and squeezing. “I’ll be out soon, I just… I need a little bit of time to process, I think.”

Raven nods, looking sad. “Okay.”

The door closing sounds too loud, and Clarke gasps out a breath that she’d been holding. Her back hits the closed door and she slides down, covering her mouth to hide the sobs wracking her body.

She loses track of time, but she just sits there and cries. She cries for the boy she loves who she can never have, for the promise of a soulmate that feels as if it’s been ripped away, for the happiness she aches for but may never find.

But most of all, she cries for a universe that ever made Bellamy Blake not believe in soulmates, even though he deserves one the most out of everyone she knows.

(Even if the soulmate he deserves is not her.)


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the delay on this! ya girl defended her master's thesis recently so that was taking up a lot of my time and energy :)

_you’re the perfect storm,  
so let it pour down on me_

* * *

The first day of having a secret soul mark is easier than Clarke expected it to be.

Raven stays the night as she had planned, but Clarke spends most of those hours staring at a TV in silence, without registering a single image or sound. She keeps finding her hand brushing over the spot on her hip where her mark rests, high enough that she knows it’ll start limiting her clothing options as it gets warmer.

If she’s going to keep this secret, she’ll have to be careful about what swimsuits she wears and get rid of every low-rise pair of pants that she owns, just to be safe. Even wearing them with longer shirts, she might not be able to assure that the shirt won’t ride up and reveal the mark. She knows she’s lucky, at least, that her soul mark is on her hip. It will be easy enough to hide with a few wardrobe changes.

It isn’t ideal, but it’s what she has to do.

The negative consequences of the alternative decision are not an option.

Really, it’s her only choice.

Bellamy doesn’t text her again that night, either, though she unlocks her phone several times to see if he’ll ask for an update. It must have made him too uncomfortable to check with her again. She’s sure he thought about it, but she would never force him into a conversation he didn’t want to have.

To be fair, she doesn’t really want to have it yet, either.

It gives her an extra day to come up with excuses and possible distractions in preparation for her birthday party, which she isn’t particularly excited about anymore. 

It’s at Bellamy and Octavia’s, as usual, and she wears a dress purposefully. If someone badgers her about her mark, she can’t exactly pull up her entire dress to show it to them. If she had worn pants, it would have maybe been an option to pull down the waist without being entirely inappropriate.

Harper winds up being the first to ask, bouncing up to Clarke with far too much energy within five minutes of Clarke arriving. 

“So, where is it?” she questions, grinning. “I bet it’s gorgeous. Let me see!”

Clarke feels the heat rise in her cheeks, and her heart skips into a quicker rhythm. It gives her the smallest taste of how Bellamy must have felt all those times, having a mark that he didn’t care for anyone to see.

“It’s on my hip, I can’t show you,” Clarke replies, smiling in a way that she hopes seems sly. “Maybe some other time.”

Harper seems to accept that despite her pout, and when Clarke glances around, she sees that Jasper and Monty aren’t too far away, listening.

Good, the more people that hear it now, the less she may have to do it later.

“Well, did you recognize it?” Monty pipes up, and Clarke notices that Murphy and Emori have given her their attention now, too.

She does her best attempt at a smirk, giving them a small shrug. “Nope.”

Harper brings up the matching site that she’s heard has the most people on it, but Clarke doesn’t really listen.

After all, she doesn’t need a matching site to figure out who her soulmate is.

As it turns out, that initial interaction doesn’t really spare her from having the same one over and over and over again. Everyone there knows what Bellamy’s soul mark looks like, so she can’t let _anyone_ see it. At one point, Maya even corners her near the bathroom and almost begs to see her mark.

It’s easy to not blame her for being excited—she and Jasper both had their birthdays recently and were overjoyed to see that they had matching marks. She’s sure they’re just wanting to share that joy with someone else.

Clarke is able to get around it, though, laughing it off and saying that she needs to find Octavia. 

Instead, she searches out a break from the attention.

Climbing out onto the roof from Bellamy’s bedroom is easy at this point, and as soon as her skin feels the cool February air, she sighs in relief.

She should have known he would already be there—he certainly hadn’t made his presence apparent throughout the course of the party. It hadn’t really bothered her, because she had understood. Still, his voice surprises her.

“Tired of your party already, princess?”

Her breath catches, and her hand goes up to her hip almost instinctively. The fabric of her dress is soft, but she can almost feel the lines hiding beneath it despite knowing that it’s completely flat. Bellamy’s eyes meet hers slowly, and even in the darkness, she feels like she can see every detail in his gaze. Suddenly, she wants nothing more than to be close to him.

So, she closes the space between them and sits down beside him, finding it just as easy as it’s ever been to lean into his side. Her body relaxes against him automatically, and it’s hard not to think about the fact that her soul mark is only two layers of fabric away from touching him.

“Party didn’t have you,” she tells him, meeting his eyes in the dim light. “Of course I got tired of it.”

“I…” Bellamy hesitates, hands squeezing at his knees as he sighs. “I figured… I didn’t really want to be around for everyone getting excited about… you know. Because I can’t really match that energy, you know? I wanted you to have a little bit of time to… be the center of that attention.”

She had figured as much, of course. “Ah, that makes sense. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you, though.”

“Well…” He extends his arms out in front of him in a big gesture, and she laughs. “Here I am.”

Her next words feel heavy. “Besides, it turns out, it’s… uh, it’s just in a place that I can’t really show people, so.”

Clarke watches as his eyebrows raise, and he shoots her a smirk as his eyes flick up and down at her. Her elbow makes contact with his ribs, gently, and he chuckles. “It’s on my hip, you weirdo.”

He just nods, sobering quickly. “So, no soulmate beating down your door yet?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to know.” Her heart is already hammering hard in her chest, and when he runs his hand through his hair, her eyes find his mark on his wrist.

The same one that’s hidden on her hip.

It feels bigger today, darker.

Scarier.

“Well, I care about you, and you care about this stuff. Even though I’m not going to freak out about it like some people will, I am still asking how it’s going.” He speaks slowly, like he’s being careful in choosing his words.

“So sweet of you,” she tries to joke, but her lungs don’t have enough air and it falls flat. There’s an ache in her chest making it hard to breathe, and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, loud enough that she’s honestly surprised he can’t hear it, too.

“So did you… did you recognize it?”

Clarke feels like her entire body lurches at his quiet question, and she focuses on a random tree across the road and wills her body to stay calm.

It’s a normal question, one that most friends would probably ask. Hell, she asked him the exact same question on his 20th birthday. Yet, the silence that lingers nearly suffocates her. Tears prick at her vision, and she thinks they would fall if it weren’t for all the crying she did the night before. The breath she finally pulls into her lungs rattles in her chest, and she thinks it’s so obvious that he _has_ to notice.

_Yes, it’s you. It’s you, it’s you. How do you not know, it’s you?_

She bites down on her lip, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. “No. Trust me, if I ever get with my soulmate, you’ll probably be the first to know.”

It isn’t even completely a lie.

His eyes meet hers, and for a moment, she’s terrified that he’s seen through her, that her ruse isn’t strong enough and that he knows. Irrationally, she wants to move and cover the mark, even though it’s hidden under her clothes.

But then Bellamy just smiles, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Of course, why would he have any reason not to believe her?

“Good,” he says, nudging her playfully. “You know I’ll have to approve. I don’t exactly trust those pesky things.”

Somehow, his nonchalance just makes her feel worse. Add that to the fact that his mark, _her mark_ , **_their mark_** , is there, on his arm, staring her in the face, and she’s barely able to manage a half smile back at him.

Raven finds her later, sitting down beside her on the staircase with a red solo cup in her hand. “So how is it going, having a soulmate that no one can know about?”

When Clarke only shrugs, Raven groans in what Clarke knows is exasperation.

“This is already killing you.”

Clarke glances across the room to see Bellamy playing some kind of card game with Miller and Murphy, his grin wide. He had followed her back inside from the roof and seemed to be in a better mood now, which was good. Seeing him smile, happy like that, makes a sense of serenity and calmness settle into her own veins. As if detecting her gaze, he glances up to meet her eyes. The corners of his lips twitch upward and he crosses his eyes in her direction, before returning his attention to the boys.

Still, each heartbeat feels like it creates a new crack in her soul, and she sighs. “Losing him would kill me more.”

* * *

It only gets harder from there.

To begin with, her mother is hard to placate. She wants to know all about Clarke’s mark— what it looks like, how she feels to finally have one. For nearly a week, she even begs Clarke to take a picture of it to use in her next book.

“Look, mom, for now, I just want this to stay mine. I don’t want the whole world to know about it.”

“Well, can’t I at least see it?”

Clarke almost agrees, but her mom has seen Bellamy’s soul mark, from a bit of a distance or from underneath one of his watches. As perceptive as she is, she might recognize it.

“Maybe later” becomes her excuse until her mother finally drops it.

For the time being, at least.

With that issue taken care of, it takes her nearly two months to weed through all of her clothing, making sure that anything that could possibly incriminate her is donated to a local Goodwill. Every swimsuit she has, she gives away or throws out. Then, once the weather starts warming, she starts gathering a collection of new ones with higher waists and darker colors – she has to make sure they’re high enough to cover the mark and dark enough that the black lines won’t show at all through the fabric.

Still, when she invites everyone to a small pool party at her house in April, her palms are sweaty as she pulls a swimsuit into place. Raven is there—she’s the only person who knows the whole story. When Clarke walks back into her room and does a turn to show off the navy blue suit, Raven smirks.

“It looks really good on you, actually.”

“And you can’t see the mark, right?”

Raven takes one step back, appraising her. Clarke feels a small sense of relief that at least her friend is taking this seriously. Even if she doesn’t necessarily agree with Clarke’s secrecy, which she voices often, she still supports her decision.

After a moment, Raven shakes her head. “No, I can’t see it.”

“Good.”

It’s a pretty warm afternoon for April, and the pool water is refreshingly cool. After taking one lap around it herself, Clarke goes over to where Octavia, Bellamy, and Raven are sitting, plopping herself down beside Octavia.

Octavia grins at her. “You look amazing by the way, Clarke.”

For some reason, Clarke’s eyes raise and immediately meet Bellamy’s. He smiles at her, a little lopsided, and she feels warmth burn in her cheeks. The expression is easy, and it means nothing, but it still makes her heart hammer in her chest. She focuses her attention on Octavia, talking about where she bought the swimsuit, making sure everyone knows how cute she thought it was when she saw it.

It covers up the fact that the style was actually the only real reason she bought it. 

A lot of people actually wind up complementing her on the suit, enough that she laughs with Raven about it, because really, what are the odds?

The afternoon continues pretty uneventfully, much to Clarke’s relief. They have a few coolers of drinks, both alcoholic and nonalcoholic, plus just enough people for it to be fun without being overwhelming. After a while, Clarke even forgets that she’s hiding something.

However, at one point later in the afternoon, she looks up from where she’s on a chair tanning and sees Echo and Bellamy talking.

No, Echo and Bellamy _flirting_.

Echo leans into him, laughing, her hand resting on his shoulder. Bellamy smiles back at her, and he doesn’t shy away from her touch. An ache blooms in Clarke’s chest, and she stands, planning to go to the opposite side of the pool and hopefully face a different direction than them. Moisture burns in her eyes, and she blinks it away as the mark on her hip suddenly feels ice cold.

“Hey, be careful.” Raven puts herself in Clarke’s path, reaching out to pull the top of Clarke’s bottoms up a little. “I could kind of see the top of it.”

Clarke’s hands fly to the spot, even though it’s fully covered now. “How long was I standing there with it showing?”

“Not long,” Raven assures her. “It was just a tiny piece and I don’t think anyone saw.”

“Good.” Clarke sighs. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“I saw you noticed him and Echo.” Raven shuffles one of her feet. “I still wish you would just tell him. You’re setting yourself up to be miserable your whole life.”

Clarke glances back at Bellamy, and no matter how much it feels like her heart is reaching out for him, his attention stays on the girl beside him. He seems completely unencumbered by worry, maybe even happy. “It’s not about me.”

When everyone goes to leave, Clarke sees Echo hug Bellamy over her own embrace with Octavia. Bellamy smiles, just a little, and then walks over to her and Octavia as they part. He hugs her, his arms strong as she holds onto his shoulders. Tears threaten in her eyes again, and she hopes that he doesn’t notice the shakiness of the exhale she buries into his t-shirt.

She pushes everything away when she takes a step back, smiling at him. It feels weird on her face, and she just hopes he doesn’t notice. She has to be fair to him—if she isn’t going to tell him that they’re soulmates, she can’t be jealous of who he likes or dates.

That’s what she repeats in her head like a mantra, a lifeline, when he starts dating Echo a week later.

Gina hurt, sure, but seeing Bellamy with Echo while she hides his matching soul mark from everyone is an entirely new level of pain. When the two are curled together on the sofa at the Blake house, she looks literally anywhere else as the skin on her hip seems to sting. She speaks just enough to make sure no one notices her being weird, and avoids them as often as she can.

She can’t—it hurts too much.

Raven is the only one who gets it, and does everything she can to help Clarke cope for those first few weeks.

Eventually, she learns to live with this new pain.

Bellamy seems happy, really, and so she adjusts. She takes deep breaths any time she sees them, forcing her heart to calm. She pushes harder to speak to him, to them, letting herself be a part of their conversations. She tells herself that it’s still okay to sit beside him, to get lunch with him.

He’s still her best friend, right? That hasn’t changed.

It takes some time and practice, but eventually, she finds her new normal where Bellamy is concerned.

And she’s okay.

For the most part.

She still cries most nights, staring at a picture of her and Bellamy from their beach trip two years ago, arms around each other and smiles wide. The ocean frames the photo behind them, and neither of them is actually looking at the camera. Bellamy had made a joke—she can’t even remember what it was – but it had made them laugh, and that was what Octavia captured in the picture she took.

It makes her smile just as much as it exacerbates the gap in her soul that she knows will never get filled.

* * *

“You’re doing that all wrong.”

Clarke glances up at Bellamy, narrowing her eyes. He sits down beside her, watching as she pulls her marshmallow from the fire and assembles her treat. “It’s s’mores, there isn’t a wrong way to do it.

“There is always a wrong way to do something, princess,” he argues, and Clarke ignores the lurch in her chest by taking a bite of her s’more.

“Fine, teach me your ways, s’more master.”

She hands him the ingredients, observing with fake fascination as he roasts his marshmallow. Propping her elbow on her knee, she rests her chin on her fist and tries not to stare at the way the firelight reflects off of his freckles.

When he’s finished putting his creation together, he hands it to her, grin wide. “Ta-da.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but accepts his s’more, taking a bite. “This tastes no different than any other s’more, except you burned your marshmallow just a little more.”

“My genius just isn’t appreciated,” he huffs playfully, teaching out to wipe some melted chocolate off of the corner of her mouth.

She freezes at the intimacy of the touch, and nearly chokes when he sticks his thumb in his mouth to lick it off. When he reaches out to rub her back as she coughs, she feels her cheeks warm even more.

In the moments that it takes for her to recollect herself, they sit there silently. By the time she finds her voice, Bellamy has assembled another s’more and is nibbling at it.

“So, have we started taking bets on who’s going to pass out drunk first?”

Bellamy laughs. “Well, it’s a Thursday in June, so by that math, definitely Jasper.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder, where Jasper has grabbed another beer and is laughing at something Monty said. “Fair, but Raven has been a little heavy-handed tonight, too.”

Bellamy’s smile is infectious. “You’re so on, princess.”

He’s shifted closer to her now, one of his crossed legs propped against one of her own outstretched thighs. They’re practically as close as possible without her being in his lap, she thinks. He seems unbothered by the proximity, but she somehow feels like her skin is burning from his touch at the same time that his closeness calms her.

She knows she’s just hyper aware of his presence. He’ll always be her Bellamy, a familiar comfort no matter the circumstances, but knowing that the mark shining in the brightness of the fire is the same mark tingling on her hip makes electricity buzz in her veins just as much as it creates the ache in her heart that she’s grown all too familiar with.

The longer she has the mark—the longer she keeps it a secret—the more it feels like it’s alive, somehow a part of her and its own entity at the same time. But when she’s near Bellamy, it burns even hotter, like someone is holding a lit match to it. At those times, it feels like it’ll jump from her skin and reveal itself to him, and she feels too aware of it every time her clothing so much as shifts on her body.

It’s some of the strangest sensations she has ever experienced, but she knows that if she wants him in her life, she’ll have to get used to it.

She watches him eat his s’more, vaguely aware of the noise of their other friends behind them. Her gaze drifts to that dark, beautiful mark, the one he rarely seems to cover these days. Tracing the lines of it with her eyes, she lets herself wish for a moment. Pressed so close to him, she gives herself just a few seconds to picture a different world, one where he didn’t have a girlfriend, one where he wanted a soulmate.

One where he wanted her.

Then, she lies back to stare at the stars, hands resting on her stomach as she squeezes her eyes shut for just a moment, fighting against the burning sensation at their edges. One of her hands trails down, low enough that her pinky brushes against the line of her shorts pocket, where she knows the mark lies, hidden. Part of her curses the marks now, these unknown forces that play matchmaker and don’t seem to take actual feelings into account.

At least, not his.

Bellamy finishes his snack and then lies down beside her, and she tries pointing out some of the constellations that he once showed her. After a minute, her head winds up against his shoulder on the ground. He’s warm, like Bellamy always is, and his voice is like a lighthouse and an anchor, drawing her in and keeping her steady. It relaxes her, and makes her feel at home.

In those moments, relaxed with him, her defenses fall. She just listens to him speak and laughs when he complains about the visibility of the stars. Her heart forgets, for just a second, the weight of the secret that it has to keep.

And she almost tells him.

Maybe if he knew, she would at least have it off of her chest. And he’s _Bellamy_ —he won’t completely disown her just because he’s not interested in having a soul mate. He already knows he _has_ one. Knowing it’s her doesn’t have to change much, and then at least he’d _know_.

Just that they happen to be soulmates.

He doesn’t need to know that she loves him.

And then Echo calls his name from the back porch.

He breathes a deep sigh and sits up. She follows, a sense of numbness creeping over her body. Still, her blood rushes when he shoots her a look that is pure fondness.

(Just not the fondness she wishes it was.)

Handing her his marshmallow stick from earlier, he grins. “Hold down the s’mores front for me, okay princess? We can continue our constellation ventures later.”

Clarke smiles, and then he’s gone. Raven comes to sit beside her, quiet for a long moment as she creates her own s’more. After she’s finished, she looks over at Clarke with a clarity in her eyes that is not reminiscent of the half bottle of tequila in her system. “You’re really never going to tell him, huh?”

A sigh escapes Clarke’s throat, and she glances back at the porch where Bellamy stands with an arm around Echo. His eyes lift and find hers within seconds of her gaze being on him, so quickly she briefly entertains the idea that he can truly sense her gaze. He smirks, easy and effortlessly gorgeous, lifting his fingers off of Echo’s arm go give her a small wave.

But then his attention returns to his girlfriend, and the way he smiles at her makes Clarke’s heart shatter. The kiss Echo presses to his cheek practically crushes it.

“How am I supposed to tell the boy I’m in love with that I’m his soulmate when he hates everything about them and is happy with someone else?”

Raven never answers, just shuffles a little closer, offering Clarke what comfort she can give. Bellamy never does return to her side before she decides to go to sleep, so she falls asleep beside Octavia, but dreams that the other Blake sibling is lying next to her. She dreams of him pointing out stars and reaching out to twine their fingers together.

It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall know i had to make it dramatic lmao, sorry if you were expecting Bellamy to find out in this chapter :)


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this taking so long!! I had a lot going on, but hopefully this chapter being longer and... mostly sweet will help? ANYWAY enjoy bye :)

_It’s like every single star aligning  
we traded silver for gold lining_

At the beginning of July, Clarke, Raven, and Octavia move into an apartment together. Raven has a job nearby at a mechanic shop, and when Octavia transfers to the same school that Clarke already goes to, it just makes sense for them to live together.

Bellamy even agrees that it’s a good idea, though he grins, saying, “That’s fine, O. It means maybe I can _actually_ bring girls home.”

“You have a girlfriend,” Octavia points out, eyebrows raised.

Bellamy just shrugs. “Okay, so I’ll be able to bring one girl home.”

Clarke just manages to turn her face and look out the window to hide her wince. She takes a moment to focus on the positive change, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply through her nose. Living with her two best friends will be incredible, and the apartment has a lot more room than her on campus living ever had.

Other than having to hide her roommate’s brother’s soul mark on her hip, it couldn’t be better.

And it _is_ great. She loves having two of her best friends so close.

But, when she goes home in August to get the rest of her clothing that she’d never had room for in a dorm, she finds an unfamiliar car sitting in her driveway.

“Mom?” she calls upon entering, glancing around to find the living room empty. She stops short when a man with long hair walks out of her mother’s bedroom, shirtless, and her mother runs out on his heels, eyes wide. Her robe is unevenly fastened, and she looks disheveled.

“Mom?” Clarke repeats, suddenly feeling nauseous. “Who’s this?”

“This is… This is Marcus, sweetie.” Abby pushes her hair out of her face. “He’s a… friend.”

Clarke glances once more over their appearance, raising an eyebrow. “Friend?”

Abby sighs, but there isn’t any remorse in her eyes. “I… I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but he… we _have_ been seeing each other.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” Marcus extends his hand, but Clarke just stares at her mother. Marcus quickly realizes his presence isn’t wanted in the room, and makes up an excuse to leave.

Clarke doesn’t even hear what it is.

Once they’re alone, Clarke tries to take a deep breath. One question burns in her brain, heavy on her tongue. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

Abby’s brow furrows, like she’s trying to do math in her head. Clarke sits down on the arm of the sofa, the room spinning a little. “About two years, maybe a little longer.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” The term of endearment feels vicious, like poison dripping off of her mother’s tongue. “I couldn’t let anyone know, even you. It would have… it would have impacted book sales if anyone found out.”

“Because he has a soulmate,” Clarke realizes with a gasp. She had noticed the dark, angular mark on the man’s bare chest. It was a stark contrast to her mother and father’s more rounded mark, that now stands out on her mother’s ankle. “One I’m assuming is still alive.”

“They were married until last year. He… he left her. For me.”

“Oh, my God.” Clarke gets up, heading to the door. “I can’t believe you.”

“Clarke, wait!” Her mother calls, sounding desperate. “Wait!”

“What?” Clarke screams, tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. It’s only the panic in her mother’s voice that makes her turn around. “What can you possibly say to explain why you started dating someone within two years of my dad, _your soulmate_ , dying? What can you say to defend how you broke up a soulmate pair and didn’t tell anyone, even your daughter, because it would have impacted your stupid fucking career?”

It shouldn’t hurt like this. She doesn’t know why it hurts like this.

It feels like betrayal.

Not for her, maybe. For her dad.

Her heart hammers against her chest, each beat stabbing a little deeper.

Abby huffs. “It’s not that simple, Clarke.”

Clarke shakes her head, one tear slipping down her face. “Dad was your soulmate. You told me after he died that there would never be anyone else, because _that’s how soulmates worked_.”

“Well…” Abby twists her hands together, but Clarke is done.

“No, save it.” She goes to leave again, but her mother catches her wrist.

She turns to look her mother in the eye, but her eyes still show very little emotion. And all Abby says is, “Please, don’t tell anyone.”

Clarke clenches her teeth together. “Sure, whatever.”

Spinning on her heel, she’s out the door quickly and back into her car. She didn’t get any of her clothes, but she doesn’t care. She can come back later, maybe when her mother is at work, or asleep.

When she starts driving, she isn’t sure where she’s going, which is probably why habit and routine overpowers everything else and she winds up parked in front of the Blake house.

She hesitates. _He won’t want to talk about it_ reverberates in her head, but her feet still carry her to the front door and she watches passively as her fist knocks against the door, barely registering the feeling of the wood against her knuckles. Her insides are coiled tight, only held together by a single string that’s already frayed.

_You’re just bothering him with meaningless soulmate talk_ , her mind screams.

Standing there on the porch as she waits, she starts to feel stupid. She really shouldn’t go crying to him about this. The thoughts are louder than sirens in her head, echoing and reverberating.

And they’re probably right.

She is just bothering him. He probably won’t want to talk about it.

And then he opens the door.

And everything goes quiet.

In a sudden moment, as soon as her eyes meet his, everything in her brain becomes silent. The feeling that she is going to break into a thousand pieces dissipates. She throws herself into him, almost as a reflex, arms tightening around his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms wrapping around her. His grip is tight and for a moment, he holds her soul together as she cries into his t-shirt.

“Clarke?” His voice sounds frightened. His arms loosen just enough that he can use one of his hands to cup her jaw, lifting her face to meet his gaze. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me a little.”

“My mom started seeing someone, she’s been… It’s been so long, I can’t even… she still wears her wedding ring, but she’s been sneaking around and—” Her voice catches and the jumbles of words falling off of her lips is cut off. Suddenly, she looks around, dread pooling quickly. “I’m sorry, God, I just stopped by. Is anyone—is Echo here? I didn’t even think…”

Bellamy’s hand grips her elbow, tight enough to anchor her once again. “Sh, no. You’re okay. We broke up.”

“Oh.” A plethora of emotion overwhelms her, until she finally catches and holds onto sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Who—What did your mom do?”

She stammers, suddenly hyper aware of the mark on his arm that lingers in the corner of her vision. Even when she looks away, she can still see it. “She’s dating someone, and apparently has been for… a while. She was keeping it from me, I don’t know. She said… she said she couldn’t tell me because the secret would have hurt her career. It just doesn’t make sense to me. I spent my whole childhood thinking… it’s not like I really even expected her to stay single forever, I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you don’t really like talking about soulmates, and—”

“Hey.” His voice is soft, his touch even softer when he reaches out for her shoulders. “It’s you, Clarke. All of that goes out the window when it’s you. I’m here, whatever you need.”

“How could she do that?” Clarke whispers, pressing her forehead back against his collarbone for a moment. “She and my dad were soulmates. And the person that she’s with… they still have a soulmate out there. He left his soulmate for her. It just… Maybe… I don’t know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong about them this whole time.”

The words are a flood that she can’t stop, each thought spilling forward. She catches herself, stopping them before she can say something she’ll regret. Still, the words aren’t true. There, in his arms, as his thumb draws circles into the small of her back, soulmates don’t feel wrong. He’s warm and encompassing and _everything_ she needs. Just his touch is enough to calm her mind and let her breath come easier. The burden and ache in her chest diminish until she can bear them, until her thoughts slow and she can feel the tension drain out of her shoulders.

Bellamy’s lips press to her temple, the smallest brush, and his grip tightens.

And it suddenly makes more sense than it ever has. In a moment of pure clarity, she knows that _he_ could never be wrong.

It’s clear and beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.

Soulmates _are_ good.

At least, _hers_ is.

But maybe that doesn’t mean they’re all good. Maybe this power, or whatever it is, is wrong sometimes.

Just not this time. Not with hers.

Never with hers.

“I’m so sorry,” Bellamy says, his breath brushing her cheek. “I can’t imagine what’s going through your head.”

“You.” The word slips from her lips honestly before she can stop it.

“Hmm?”

“Just how easy you are to be around, that I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

_That I love you, that you’re my soulmate, that you’re the only thing that makes sense right now._

“Back at you, princess.” Bellamy leans back, smiling. “Come on, get in my car. I’m going to make you feel better.”

Feeling a bit of life creeping back into her veins, she tilts her head at him. “What if I have plans?”

“Do you?” he challenges, the corners of his lips twitching.

She rolls her eyes, opening his passenger door and climbing in. Even with the door closed, she can still hear his laugh.

He winds up taking her nearly thirty minutes away to the closest beach. There’s a small carnival set up at the end of the pier, and Bellamy is adamant that they get a ticket for the Ferris wheel. Despite Clarke’s protests, she loses the battle quickly when Bellamy smiles at her. For a moment, she wonders if he knows the effect he has on her, knows that she would do just about anything for that grin.

Once they’re at the top, she glances out over the water, taking a deep breath of salty air and letting it cleanse the day from her mind. She can feel Bellamy’s eyes on her, every point that his eyes trace leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Instead of meeting his eyes, she leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. Later, she’ll tell him that the ocean and the fresh air is what made her feel better.

In reality, it’s him.

Clarke knows that Bellamy’s presence is all she needs, and so when he seems reluctant to let the afternoon end, she suggests they walk down the beach. They hide their shoes under a bench near the dunes and walk where the water just does lap against their toes. Once, a wave rushes up and splashes up to Clarke’s knees, making her squeal.

Bellamy reaches out as if to steady her, wrapping his fingers around her palm.

And then he doesn’t let go.

Clarke waits for nervous energy to overtake her, but it doesn’t. Her hand feels small in his as his fingers interlock with her own, but it feels like the hand she was meant to hold.

Which, she guesses, she was.

Being with Bellamy is _easy_ , easier than breathing. Spending the day with him certainly doesn’t take her problems away, but it makes them more manageable. It makes her feel as if she isn’t shouldering the burdens alone. He makes jokes at Miller’s expense, telling drunk weekend stories just to make her laugh, and for a while, she forgets. For the first time since his stupid mark showed up on her hip, she doesn’t think about the secret she’s keeping. She just thinks about him—his warmth and his kindness, how much he makes her feel stable and centered. He keeps her world on its axis in every way, and she knows regardless of his role in her life, she’d be lost without him.

It makes her understand the weight of having a soulmate that truly fits at the same time that never telling him makes more sense than ever.

Why risk the connection that they have? It’s special to her, and she knows she can’t lose it.

He lets go of her hand when they need to put their shoes back on, but slips his hand back into hers once they start walking again. Her mind is racing, trying not to overthink such a simple gesture, but it’s hard to think straight when his soul mark is pressed against the inside of her wrist.

After a minute of walking, they see a park with a merry-go-round, and Bellamy turns to grin at her. “Come on,” he encourages, tugging on her hand.

“You’re just a child hiding in a grown man’s body, aren’t you?” She narrows her eyes at him, smiling.

“You caught me,” he admits, his own grin wide.

She caves easily, and within a few minutes, Bellamy is pushing the merry-go-round in circles long enough to really get it moving. Once satisfied, he sits down next to her.

“Feeling better?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah, the beach and fresh air were good ideas. Thank you.”

Bellamy smiles a little, adjusting his grip on the bar beside him. “Good, I’m glad.”

Silence lingers for a moment, and then she sighs. “I just… I feel stupid, I guess. I’m sitting here believing in all this stuff so much even though it clearly has flaws. Maybe… Maybe you’ve had the right idea the entire time.”

She doesn’t necessarily believe it, but with the way Bellamy has been acting around her today, she wants to know what he’ll say. It’s bait, and it probably isn’t the smartest idea, but the words slip out before she can second guess them.

So, she waits, picking at her shorts and fraying the already distressed fabric. Bellamy stays quiet for a long moment, and his voice is soft when he finally speaks.

“Maybe, but if I am, I hate that I am.” His exhale is a little shaky, and Clarke finds she’s too afraid to meet his eyes. “Clarke… I hate that your mom did that and that it’s made you feel this way. I hate… Look, you deserve a soulmate. You deserve one more than anyone I know. I can’t imagine your soulmate ever doing anything but… but loving you.”

The merry-go-round has almost come to a stop, but neither of them moves. Clarke leans into his shoulder, peering at him through the corners of her eyes. “So do you, you know.”

His smile is fleeting, but his eyes flick quickly up to hers and then back to his lap. “I assume you’re still… you still hope to find them someday? Your soulmate?”

Clarke pulls her knees up to her chest, suddenly terrified of the darkness in Bellamy’s eyes. She assumes it’s their topic of conversation—he never really likes talking about soulmates—but for the first time in a long time, it feels heavy. For a short time, she had forgotten that weight.

Now, it feels unbearable.

Trying not to crack under that pressure, her voice trembles when she speaks. “I don’t know.”

Bellamy shifts, meeting her gaze full on for the first time since the conversation started. Their faces are close together, but that darkness still lingers in his expression. It feels different in a way that she can’t place, and she feels her heart reaching, aching for him to be closer but knowing that she shouldn’t want that.

_Why don’t you want me?_ It shatters her from the inside as she looks at him, and she wonders if he can feel her breaking, crumbling with every moment that his mark sits on her hip, unknown to almost everyone, unknown to him.

_Why don’t you love me, too?_

A piece of her hair that had fallen out of her braid on the beach flits across her face, and before she can tuck it back behind her ear, Bellamy has reached out to do it for her. His touch makes her shiver, but she bites it back before it can go too far.

Maybe that’s the difference in his eyes, she ponders as his hand falls back to his lap. Something certainly seems shifted, but maybe it doesn’t need to be scary.

So, she has to ask. He’s so close, and he feels like _hers_ so suddenly as he looks at her, eyes open and soft. The question feels odd as it pierces the air. “Do you still never want to find yours?”

Bellamy sighs, his eyes moving away from her face. She holds her breath while he seems to consider her question, eyes tracing his face for any sign that would give his feelings away. There isn’t anything that she can place as the silence stretches, heavy. She can hear her heart beating in her ears. It’s the longest pause she thinks he has ever taken regarding a soulmate conversation.

Maybe he’s changed his mind. If he has, maybe she could tell him. He might be upset that she kept it a secret for so long, but surely a Bellamy that wants a soulmate wouldn’t stay angry at her. Maybe he would understand, if his thoughts on them have truly changed.

She wants to tell him so badly; she knows that even the smallest evidence of that being true would make the words spill from her lips.

Finally, Bellamy sighs. “I don’t think so, Clarke. I just… I don’t have much faith in this… system, whatever it is. I just don’t need some mark to tell me who it thinks I should love. I know who I love, you know?”

The words freeze on her tongue, and she swallows them.

She manages a nod, feeling the disappointment that settles deep into her stomach. It’s the strongest that the feeling has ever felt as the hope she had felt for that long moment dies.

It’s for the best, probably. She isn’t sure she believes in the sanctity of soulmates anymore, anyway. Her doubts creep back into her mind with a vengeance, and she isn’t sure what she feels.

“I’m sorry again, about Echo.”

It’s all that she can find in her to say without incriminating herself, and that’s probably who he has in mind anyway. He loved her, for whatever reasons, and they weren’t soulmates. The sentence falls flat on her voice, still.

Bellamy furrows his brow, but it lasts only a moment before the expression smooths. “Yeah, thanks.”

When the sun starts to set, he takes her back to his place to pick up her car, and the drive back is mostly quiet other than the radio. Clarke isn’t sure what to think of that silence—it isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s nothing familiar, either.

It holds her speech hostage. She isn’t sure what she would say, anyway.

Before she gets in her car, Bellamy does hug her, pulling her tightly into his chest. One arm winds around her waist, one hand tangles in her hair. She just holds him back, her heart breaking even more.

She didn’t think it was possible.

“You gonna be okay?”

_No, no, never._

How can she feel so broken and held together at the same time? How can she feel like she’s made the biggest mistake of her life, but also as if she’s made the only choice she had?

“I think so.” She nods into his chest, pushing everything away and focusing on the warmth and weight of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, she tries to let herself be comforted. It works, for the most part. “Thanks, again.”

He turns his face into her hair, and there’s the faintest pressure of his lips on her head. “I’m always here for you.”

She winds up having to pull over around the corner, unable to see through the tears spilling from her eyes. Sobs shake her chest, and she cries into her steering wheel as the sky continues to darken.

Maybe she did make the wrong choice. Maybe she should have just been honest. Maybe that would have saved her some of this heartbreak, to just get it over with at the beginning.

But it’s been months now.

It’s too late.

* * *

Octavia is the next person to turn 20, and she decides she wants to go out the night before. She and Bellamy argue for nearly three weeks about it. He finally agrees to go along with it as long as she promises to let him keep track of how much she actually drinks and to stop when he says to.

So, at the beginning of October, Octavia procures a fake ID for her and a few of her underage friends, Clarke included.

Everyone meets at the girls’ apartment first, but Bellamy, Miller, Monty, and Murphy all wind up waiting downstairs while the girls finish getting ready.

“I noticed that you didn’t invite Echo,” Harper mentions at one point, almost making Clarke stab herself in the eye with a mascara wand.

Octavia shrugs. “Oh, yeah. She and my brother broke up like, over a month ago.”

“Why?” Emori pipes up, curled into a bean bag chair in a corner.

“I guess they wanted different things? I don’t know, he didn’t tell me. Maybe she found her soulmate.”

“He would have told me that,” Clarke says without thinking, only to realize that everyone’s attention immediately turns to her after she speaks.

“He would?” Harper seems confused.

“No, she’s right,” Octavia agrees, lips pursed. “He would have. He really didn’t tell you why?”

Clarke shakes her head, suddenly struck by the fact that he didn’t. She feigns nonchalance, shrugging. “Nope.”

The other girls keep talking, but Clarke excuses herself to her own room. She picks out a pair of earrings that match the embellishment on the straps of her sleeveless green dress and pulls on a pair of shoes. Taking a moment, she glances in her floor-length mirror, twirling one of her curls and assessing herself.

“You ready?”

She jumps a little, turning to find Bellamy leaning against her doorframe. “Oh, shit. Is everyone waiting?”

“Nah, just checking.” He smiles at her, and it’s charged with some of the same energy she felt that day at the beach. Her heart leaps in her chest. “They’re not ready yet.”

For a minute, she lets herself look at him. He looks incredible, of course, in his dark jeans and blue t-shirt. His hair is messy, but she knows that he did style it just a bit because she knows what his hair looks like when he doesn’t.

Afraid of being caught staring, she glances back in her mirror, messing absentmindedly with her hair. The feeling of his gaze on her back isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s unfamiliar. It makes the skin on her hip tingle. She presses her hand against it and brushes her dress down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Do I look okay?”

Bellamy pushes off the door post and takes a few steps toward her, his hands tucked into his pockets. His eyes trail up and down a few times, and she definitely notices when they linger on her legs and chest. When his eyes find hers again, heat rises in her cheeks.

“You look really hot, honestly.”

That _really_ makes her blush. “ _Bellamy_.”

“Sorry, is that weird?” He shrugs a little. “It’s true. But you’re always gorgeous.”

He never says things like this, and her mind races with ideas about the difference in the air. Is he flirting with her? She meets his gaze again, and one corner of his mouth twitches up. “No, it’s not weird. It’s okay.”

That brings a sparkle into his eyes that she doesn’t recognize as he smiles at her. A moment later, his eyes flick down, and his smile falters just a little. “Right, sorry. I just… fuck, Clarke. I like you.”

“What?” She swears her heart stops.

“I like you. A lot. It’s why Echo broke up with me, because she realized it even when I didn’t. It’s… I know you have a soulmate somewhere, I know that. I know they’re probably way better suited for you than me, right? And I know you believe in that stuff and would go running if you found them, but…” He touches her face then, fingers brushing against her cheek gently, almost reverently. She shivers, and despite knowing that she should stop him, her face leans almost automatically into the warmth. “It’s how I feel. I think it’s how I’ve always felt.”

“Bellamy…” Shock floods her system at his unprompted admission. His name is only a whisper, almost a prayer as it slips past her lips. Other words fail her as her mind races too fast.

_Stop._

_Don’t stop._

Clarke has no idea what’s she supposed to do.

He swallows, hand still against her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

She shouldn’t— _oh God, she shouldn’t_ —but she nods.

His lips brush hers, tentative at first. It’s the softest of touches, but she feels it _everywhere_. Heat spreads from where his mouth covers hers all the way down to her toes. When his other hand comes up to cup her jaw, it’s all she can do to reach out for him and hold on. Her hands find purchase on his arms and cling to the fabric of his shirt, curling into his biceps.

Seeming more confident, Bellamy deepens the kiss ever so slightly and she lets him, powerless to do anything else. A sigh escapes her lips as she tilts her head, giving him better access. She is putty in his hands, completely useless, thoughts consumed only with him. When he pulls away, she feels a chill where his lips were. His breath stutters, his fingertips lingering on her face.

“Fuck,” he whispers, forehead falling against hers. His lips brush her mouth once, twice more, before his eyes finally open.

“Bellamy, I…” Her brain works overtime to process, to form the words that she needs to say.

He has to know. She has to tell him. She can’t let him go another second without knowing.

Can’t he tell? Can’t he feel the heat coming off of the mark on her hip as it burns for him? Does he not feel it, too?

“Bellamy.” Her voice is thick. “You’re—”

“Are you guys ready?” Octavia’s voice shatters their little bubble, but Bellamy doesn’t seem to notice that there was one. He just smiles, tapping her nose with his index finger and following his sister downstairs.

Clarke stares at the space where he just stood for a moment, hand reaching up slowly to brush against her lips. They’re warm, softer than before, she thinks. If she closes her eyes, she can still feel where Bellamy’s lips just were.

She messed up.

_Oh God_ , she messed up.

In all the times she felt she was making the right decision, she suddenly knows that she was wrong.

The night feels like it flies by, and a lot of her attention stays on Octavia. Bellamy is always close by—her body feels even more attuned to him than usual. To add to that, he stays by her side the entire night. While they’re getting dinner, he puts his arm on the back of the seat behind her, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. While they’re dancing at one of the only Bellamy approved bars, he’s there, grabbing her hand and spinning her around. She lets him pull her hips closer to his from behind her, getting lost for a moment in the feeling of his breath against her neck. In the dark where no one can see, he even leans over enough to press a kiss to her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She turns to meet his lips, and he tugs her bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away.

She tries to pull him to the side a few times, tries to find a moment of peace in the chaos to tell him the truth before everything spirals out of her control.

That moment never comes, and she winds up accepting every single shot or drink that comes her way until she doesn’t remember anything else. When she wakes up the next morning, she vaguely remembers giggling into Bellamy’s chest as he tucked her into bed, but nothing else. The headache pounding between her ears makes her squint into the sun coming through her window. She climbs out of bed slowly, catching sight of her soul mark in her floor length mirror.

She’s only wearing a tank top and her boyshort underwear, and so the tank top had moved enough in her sleep to make the mark visible. Staring at it as if suddenly remembering its existence, her stomach sinks.

_Bellamy_.

She still has to tell him.

She’s just pulled on a pair of shorts and a hoodie with the intention of finding him when Octavia opens her door.

_Shit_ , Octavia.

“Hey, you okay?” Clarke asks.

Octavia shrugs. “Can we go somewhere else? You, me, and Raven?”

“Of course.”

So, she’ll have to tell Bellamy later. It’s hard to walk past his sleeping form on their couch as they leave, but right now, his sister needs her. She doubts he would really object.

Because at 9:54 that morning, she and Raven are swimming in the river near their apartment in just their underwear as Octavia searches her body for her soul mark. It darkens slowly on her rib cage, extremely geometrical, and Octavia smiles as Clarke holds up her phone on selfie camera toward her friend so that Octavia can get a really good look at it.

“So, that’s it, huh? Really no fireworks or anything.”

Clarke laughs, eyes trailing over the mark again. “Wait. I might… Octavia, I might know that mark.”

She goes into her camera roll and scrolls back to a picture she had taken with a few friends in an introductory art class last semester. They’re all holding up their final sculpture projects that they hated needing to do, and Clarke scans the picture until she finds what she’s looking for.

“There.” She zooms in on her classmate Lincoln’s neck, where sticking out from his v-neck t-shirt is a mark that looks exactly like Octavia’s.

“I think that is it.” Octavia purses her lips, zooming out enough to give Lincoln a good look.

“I still have his number,” Clarke says, snapping a quick picture of Octavia’s mark and attaching it to a message. “Want me to send it to him?”

Octavia grins. “Sure.”

It does wind up being a match, and an hour later, Octavia and Lincoln are texting up a storm and planning a time to meet. Wasting no time, they make a coffee date that has Octavia leaving in her own car as soon as their back to their apartment. Raven climbs in her car as well, saying she wants to go grab them some hangover food. So, Clarke walks into their apartment alone.

At first, it’s so quiet that she assumes everyone is gone.

And then she sees Bellamy sitting on their couch, completely still, frown on his face.

“I was hoping to catch you. We need to talk.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to get a sense of his mood. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.”

She tries not to worry too much as she puts her stuff down and walks over to him, but her heart is hammering in her chest. Has something changed? And so quickly? Her eyes burn and she tries to blink away the sensation. Dread pools in her gut.

Practicing telling him that he’s her soulmate seems pointless now, her nerves fried as she searches his face for any answers about his sulkiness.

“Look, I know I was doing soulmate stuff with your sister all morning.” She tries to nudge his elbow when she sits down, and he actually recoils from her touch. Pain races through her veins, her breath catching in her throat. “Are you okay? I… Are you mad that I’ve been with her all morning? I’m sorry, I just—”

“No, Clarke.” Bellamy closes his eyes, and the pain that she was feeling suddenly redirects, shifting.

It’s coming from him.

_He’s_ the one that’s hurt.

_Really hurt_.

Clarke searches her brain, sorting through fuzzy memories to try and figure out what happened, where she messed up.

She presses a hand to her chest, trying to ease the pressure there as she shifts toward him. It’s an almost automatic action, to try to lessen his pain.

But it only intensifies. 

She should just say it. “I know we didn’t really get to talk yesterday, but we still need to. Is it—”

“I get it, princess.” The nickname sounds harsh, an attack instead of a comfort. She meets his eyes with a wince, and they’re dark, sad. Clarke feels like she might break, and she doesn’t even know why yet.

“Bellamy? What’s wrong?” Her voice shakes.

“I saw it, Clarke.”

It feels like every cell in her body lurches. “What?”

“I saw your mark last night.” Anger seeps into his tone. _No, not like this_. “I know… I know it matches mine.”

"How?” It's the wrong question, and she knows that as soon as it's slipped past her lips.

He huffs, eyes dark. “You basically stripped in front of me, and your shirt rode up while I was trying to cover you up. Not the point, Clarke.”

Panic builds until it nearly chokes her. Air barely reaches her lungs. She opens her mouth several times to speak before she actually finds words. Stupid, _stupid_ drunk Clarke. “Whatever scenarios you’ve come up with in your head, I can almost promise you that none of them are true, Bellamy. I swear.”

Bellamy shakes his head, mouth pressed into a thin line. He’s no longer meeting her gaze. “All the times we talked about this stuff, you never thought to tell me that I’m your fucking soul mate?”

Clarke shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. She has to fix this. He has to listen. _Please, listen._ “No, I did. I wanted to. I tried to, but you said—"

“Just didn’t think I deserved to know? Or did you not bother because you would never want to me with anyone like me anyway? Was I not good enough for you, princess?” 

Her jaw drops, hurt burning hot in her cheeks as his affectionate nickname turns purely venomous. He’s just hurt, she tries to tell herself. He doesn’t mean it. “How can you say that, Bellamy?”

“You knew." The words are cold, an accusation. "You knew how I felt about this stuff and you _lied_ to me. For _months_. For whatever twisted reasons you came up with, you didn't tell me the truth when I deserved to know.”

_No, no, no_. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was just trying to protect you.”

Bellamy chuckles dryly, no humor in the sound. She thinks she sees the shine of tears in his eyes, and that only breaks her more. “Yeah, well, good job with that one.”

“Bellamy, please. Let me explain. I wanted to tell—”

But she’s left to just watch as Bellamy’s tense shoulders storm out of her door. She gets up off the couch and takes a step toward the door, intent on following and begging him to listen, but her knees buckle and she crumples.

Her body shakes as she tries to push her hair out of her face. Tears stream down her cheeks, soaking her neck and her chest. Her headache feels a hundred times worse.

_No, no._

_No._

She can’t lose him, she can’t lose him.

She’s lost him.

She winds up on the floor, choking on sobs, tears continuing to flow freely. He’s gone. He hates her. She’ll never see him again. The mantra echoes over and over in her brain until she’s sure that it will suffocate her, pulling the life out of her until there isn’t anything left to lose.

There’s a strange noise coming from somewhere, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s coming from her. She’s shaking, squeezing her palm with her other hand too tight. The pain doesn’t register in her brain even as her nails break the skin there. The room spins and she feels like she might be sick.

Her cries continue, bursting loudly from her chest. She can’t find enough air no matter how much she gasps. Hiccups follow soon after, which only makes her feel even more like she can’t breathe. The mark on her hip _aches_ , like Bellamy had stabbed a burning hot knife into it before he left.

_He left, he left, he left._

Somehow, Raven comes home at that exact moment.

Her friend’s face is blurry, but her touch is firm when she reaches out to grasp at Clarke’s shoulders. “Clarke, hey. You have to breathe. Hey, listen to me, focus on me. Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay, just breathe. Listen to my voice, just breathe. What happened? Are you hurt?”

She feels her friend’s hands on various parts of her body—head, arms, legs. After seeming to determine that Clarke is physically fine, Raven just wraps her arms tightly around Clarke and holds firmly.

They aren’t the arms that Clarke wants, and for a moment, that makes her cry harder.

Raven is patient, holding tightly and reminding Clarke to breathe until Clarke can form words.

“He knows, Raven.” Her voice is rough, tearing itself out of her throat. “He knows, and he hates me.”

Her friend immediately understands. “Shit, Clarke.”

“He’s gone. He’s gone.” She doesn’t even know if she’s making sense as words tumble from her lips now. And no matter how tightly Raven hugs her, it doesn’t hold the pieces of her together.

Not without him.

Not when the only piece that was holding her being together has been ripped away.

And it’s all her own fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall wanted him to find out, congrats u played yourself (i'm kidding ily all thank u for sticking with me)


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